


there will come soft rains

by Elizaveta_Chyornyj



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Briefly touched on when talking about jonahs childhood), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Badass Martin Blackwood who has ALL the cards, Creeper Elias, Fluff, Jonah Magnus's delicate regency sensibilites, Knitting, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, still soft tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 23,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizaveta_Chyornyj/pseuds/Elizaveta_Chyornyj
Summary: Martin Blackwood and Elias Bouchard are soulmates. It gets a lot more complicated than that.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Comments: 192
Kudos: 247





	1. you didn't have to say my name (but you did)

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me, but I think I want Martinelias to be my Brand

There has been the name 'Martin Blackwood' on the inside of his forearm for over two hundred years - of course Elias has to hire the man.

He is driven by curiosity of course (and new things are so hard to come by, these days), but even if the slanted handwriting on his arm hadn't said his name, Elias would _still_ be inclined to hire him.

Martin is lying. He doesn't look the sort capable of doing so (at least not well) but he has yet to give anything away, or seen at all apologetic or nervous. 

He prides himself on being good at reading people, and finding how they work to use for his own personal gain, but he dares to say that if Elias did not Know Martin was lying, he wouldn't have ever guessed. This makes Martin Blackwood a curiosity on all fronts.

And that makes Elias want to know more.

So of course he hires him. Puts him in research where he can do the least damage, and the least damage can be done to him (cough - _Gertrude_ \- cough).

Elias decides not to look if Martin shares the soulmark. The Eye disapproves, but does not push the knowledge into him, lets him have this one ongoing mystery to himself.

Martin is not qualified, of course but Elias is not blind to the fact that he learns quickly. Never makes the same mistake twice, and is plenty hardworking. He can actually appreciate that. He *is* still trying to keep the Institute afloat, after all. Hard work is a valued commodity.

They don't speak much. He hadn't expected they would, of course, but he tries to time his lunch breaks with Martin's, some days. Just to make sure he's settling in properly (and not to feel the spark of rightness it ignites in him when they're in the same space. Not because he'd long since given up on the name on the inside of his forearm, and looked back on the days when he hadn't with some fondness).

And so if Elias has his name on Martin's wrist, the way Martin does his, Elias hears nothing of it until years later, when he has called Martin into his office to propose...a promotion.

"You're one of the people who's worked here the longest, by now. And you've proven yourself to be very capable. I'd very much like you to have the position."

 _Very much_ doesn't even begin to cover it. A shiver runs down his spine when he thinks of Martin as his Archivist - His Archives - Elias could kneel at his feet and be content, there. All-Seeing, all-Knowing, his Heart reconciled with the perfect version of his Eye. 

He is certain that this is how it's meant to be, whether Martin shares his mark or not. Watching him all this time has only solidified it, from when that first inkling first appeared in his mind. Even with his affinity for spiders, of all things, Elias is nothing less than smitten with him, and his ability to carefully work his way out of a situation, or mediate, or his curiosity. 

It doesn't help that Martin is pretty. Tall and freckled and with curly blonde hair, and soft around all his edges. He's so tall the lights on Elias's office leave a halo when he stands awkwardly in front of his desk, waiting for Elias to ask him to sit.

In his younger days, Jonah might have not been so patient about the whole thing, and would've gotten to the mark long before now. 

"I can't - I can't accept it. The - The promotion, I mean. But thank you."

He just blinks for a moment, and tries to work it out in his head. Hmm. He doesn't get told no very often. "And why is that?"

"It's unethical," he says very plainly, as though Elias is supposed to understand what he's getting at, here. "I know that I'm kind of a shoddy researcher, and you're just giving me the promotion because - because my name's on your arm and you feel bad, or something. So I don't - I can't accept it. But thank you."

Oh. Well.

The only way Martin would know about his name is if he had the other half of the set, so to speak.

"You knew?"

"Uhm. I kind of guessed. I read a lot, and it was kind of like that, even just passing you in the hall, you know?"

Yes, yes. He very much knows. Like a flickering of pleasant electricity being turned on and off again rapidly. Elias has never read foolish romance novels, they've never exactly garnered his interest, even if Beholding is wanting of _all_ knowledge.

Martin has, though. He'd occupy his days with them, being pulled off to far away places, where love was all that mattered. 

That had tapered off when he'd been hired at the Institute, though. Curious. Elias could begin to guess the reasoning behind that, but doesn't especially care to when he is being so thoroughly turned down.

"That isn't why I offered you the Head Archivist position, Martin. Although I suspect this brings up another conversation we ought to be having. I think you are remarkably hard-working, and I think you'd be the best person to deal with statement givers, which are usually in...Well, people don't come to us to give particularly pleasant or heart-warming accounts."

"There are still people better equipped than I am. I wouldn't mind being an archival assistant but - but that's a firm no. I - I mean it."

Elias Knows he thinks he's working on saying no, and he Knows Martin is very proud of himself in this moment for saying no to someone who is not only his boss, but his _soulmate_ , and he has to suppress a smile. "Alright. Might I at least have your suggestion as to who you think would do a good job, then?"

They have that conversation (and Elias admittedly is watching his new Archivist at the same time, he's marked by the Web already, too, which is an excellent start) and then Martin wants to have the _other_ conversation. 

But he doesn't seem to know where to start, and Elias watches with some measure of delight as he squirms in his chair, and refuses to properly make eye contact. 

"Martin," he says after watching that go on for about as long as he can possibly handle. "I know it's horribly unprofessional of me, as I am your boss, but what don't we discuss it over lunch." And then, because he knows from years of observation that there will be yet more struggle if Elias doesn't make some sort of follow-up suggestion, he says, "How do you feel about gyros?"


	2. I found more joy in sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE I can keep pumping out chapters later or this because that bodes well for the 2K essay I'm putting off until the last second. Special thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the first chapter!!

He chooses somewhere quiet, for lunch. Low class. The goal of this particular outing is not to make Martin uncomfortable. Perhaps another time.

"This will not affect my work," Martin says in the car, throwing both his hands up into a sort of surrender gesture. Priorities Elias can get behind, but it already has. It _always_ has, but especially now that Elias has let him say no to the Archivist position.

Martin's terrified. And part of him want to stop this interest in whatever Martin might prove capable of doing, and treating him as a porcelain doll and just drop him. Plunge him into whatever Elias can dredge up on such short notice and drink in the delicious fear, as well as the answer to the question, 'How much can he take without cracking?'

The other part of Elias, the one who spent so many hours tracing the mark over his arm back so, so many years ago wins out this time. Martin has proved interesting, thus far, but what does the universe expect him to bring to Elias's table, so to speak? 

(And, a very small voice says, Martin is Yours. Not like Peter was yours, temporary, or to be used. Martin is meant to be your equal, somehow, and he is very much, in all ways, Yours.)

"And it will not affect mine," Elias tells him as he parks. This, too is a lie.

He learns a great deal about Martin that afternoon. Or no, perhaps that isn't right. He knows most of what Martin tells him, already. He's unsurprisingly open. 

But contrary to some people's beliefs, Elias is not a mind reader. He can see, so long as there are eyes (or cameras) to see from. Sometimes he Knows things, and that can include feelings, or past events, etcetera. And he most certainly Knows fear. Elias hesitates to use the metaphor of blood in the water with a shark, but it seems most appropriate.

So what he learns of Martin is really just about how he works. And it is...fascinating. He says he likes working at the Institute. He says he likes dogs, and tea, and he wouldn't mind living somewhere other than Stockwell, as it's "Awfully crowded and kind of loud," but that he likes his job too much to leave, and Elias simply reassures him that although Elias runs the Institute and plays the game of politics and power with their supporters and doners, he wouldn't mind getting to do it from somewhere quieter, either.

And then he wants Elias to speak. This is not only his go-to when he feels a situation is uncomfortable (well, plus the blushing and stammering and wild gesticulating, of course) but he genuinely seems to enjoy listening.

Just to see what he does, the first thing Elias says is, "I very much wouldn't mind paying your mother's medical bills each month."

At first, it's about what he expected. Martin flushed a few shades darker at his cheecks, and the tips of his ears, and squeezes his hands together on top of the table. He's quiet, though, searching for words, and Elias waits patiently. He finally settles on, "You shouldn't do that."

(Not, 'How did you know that?' Or 'How dare you bring it up?' Curious. Although, he could have easily done some research on Martin, so at least the first one was covered.)

The more traditional man in him comes to the forefront. "Why not, then? It's really very little money to me, and my role is to take care of you, is it not?" 

That makes Martin go even darker, a pretty color against his pale complexion. "I just - I can handle it, is all. And I know you don't - I know how traditionally this goes, but it's been what, four years? And neither of us have said anything? 

"I don't - I just don't want to be a burden, I know I will be, so it's easier if I just take care of it in my own."

"Martin - It really isn't a problem, first of all. Would it make you feel better if I showed you how much I make each year? It's all public anyways -"

His eyes widen momentarily, and he shakes his head.

"And second of all, you never seemed particularly interested."

And until not long ago, Elias has had much more important things on his mind, but now he is working towards an Archivist, and he can focus whatever attention he likes on Martin. 

Hm. That is quite lovely. He wonders if he'll get tired of Martin. 

He wonders what he'll do, other than pay for his lunch and his mother's medical bills. Martin will feel indebted, to some extent (which could be what he is really trying so hard to avoid, here) but doesn't he already? 

Take him home, perhaps. Not tonight, as he will give him some time to settle into the idea, but it's one he can easily implant into his head. 

That is an idea Elias will have to work himself up to, come to think of it. It isn't one he's opposed to automatically, but he takes this sort of thing rather seriously. 

"N - Never particularly interested?" Martin says, squinting at him. He pauses long enough to thank the waiter as their food is delivered, then returns the incredulous glaring. "Everyone always acted like I was obvious about it. Uhm, Tim and Sasha, I mean. They're the only ones that knew, but I've...I suppose I've been harboring a bit of a _thing_ for you?"

What is - Oh. Surprise. That's surprise, he's feeling. That Martin - Well. It just seems cliche, is all. Statistically improbable, less so that Elias wouldn't notice.

"I...I might have been...preoccupied."

With not letting his Archives burn. With fixing the Gertrude problem, and doing research for his ritual. With a great deal of things, now that he considered it. 

"That's - I just don't expect anything from you, is all I meant. It's not about attraction, even if - You're my boss. And I'm me. So yes, I like you, but I already know how this ends, soulmate or not."

The finality of the thing. Perhaps - _Ah_. 

It seems clearer, now. Martin liked the _idea_ of soulmates, but had exactly zero self confidence (likely stemming from the fact that his own mother hated him) and was very certain any arrangement between them would not only be short term, but he would lose what little he had because of it.

To truly earn Martin's trust, he would have to play the long game.

Historically speaking, Jonah Magnus was a master at playing the long game. He told Martin he understood, and that this would not change anything between them, in the workplace or otherwise. He hasn't yet eaten, but he stands abruptly, leaving money on the table for Martin to pay.

He pays Ms. Blackwood's monthly medical bills anyways. It really does mean little to him, and Martin doesn't protest again.Perhaps Martin, too, is playing the long game. 

No, he suspects that Martin doesn't have that in him, really. Lying on his CV was one thing, this is another.


	3. than you could find in joy

Jon is His.

Not in the same way that Martin is His, but Elias still finds himself enjoying the whole thing a great deal. Jon's an excellent Archivist, despite his initial complaints, and for all the world Elias feels that he could not have made a better choice himself.

Martin seems to be settling into the Archives wonderfully, as well. This change in setting does mean that Elias passes him in the hallways and in the break room and at the front desk far less, which almost feels like a bad thing.

His plans are falling into place at a perfectly reasonable speed, and he is so happy he could sing (he does not, Elias was never much of a singer. Jonah was passable, but that was the best that could be said of him).

He's looking for an opportunity to get Martin closer, when it falls into his lap.

His Archivist and his Soulmate stand side by side in his office. Jon looking tired, but holding his head high, as if he expects Elias to refuse the request he's going to make. Martin looks tired, too but shrinks in on himself, rather than puff out like an angry bird.

"Martin needs to stay at the Institute," Jon says. "After what happened with Prentiss, he cannot possibly go back to his flat. Do you expect him to -"

He's angry, over what had happened. Likely at himself, mostly. For not noticing, or for not having a better alternative to letting Martin live in Document Storage of all places. Normally be would write the self-sacrificial attitude as a poor trait, but between wanting Jon to be marked by the Corruption and understanding wanting Martin out of harm's way, Elias opts to let it go without commenting this time.

"Jon. Jon, I believe you've started this conversation halfway in. I hadn't refused, but I think I have a better idea. Will you excuse Martin and I for a moment, please?"

This had been...A necessary evil. Elias will happily make up for it, now that the affair is over. Jon glanced between Martin and himself, looking skeptically at the both of them over his glasses, but falls back into his usual poor posture, a little. "Is that alright, Martin?"

Martin smiles at Jon. "Go on, we'll figure something out. And - And thank you, Jon."

And then it is just him and Martin. Elias stands from his seat and comes to stand beside the chair. He leans over, making a show of inspecting him for any signs of harm done to him. "You are alright, aren't you?"

He visibly swallows, but nods slowly. "I'll be - I'll be okay. Thank you."

"Excellent. Might I suggest something? You are of course welcome to stay in the Archives, but I also have a view room, and wouldn't mind if you stayed there until we can sort this whole thing out somehow."

The stammering starts up. "I don't - I don't want to be in your way, or anything -"

"Martin. I'm offering."

"I - As long as it really wouldn't be too much trouble it'd be...Nice. To not be alone."

"Alright. Do you have someone to go back to your flat with you to get what you need?"

He nods. "Tim already said - Yes. Uhm...I don't know where you live?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll drive you there after work today, but do get your things sometime today. I'm thinking of leaving about half six?"

This is clearly a great deal for Martin to process at once. Especially when Elias is still hovering and being very deliberate in his motions. It takes him a moment, but Martin nods slowly. "No that's - that's fine. I'm - I'll do it around lunch. I'm just not especially keen on it, you know?"

"I certainly understand. I'm sorry that happened to you, Martin and I was not able to do anything about it. I cannot promise a timeframe, but I'll do whatever I can about Prentiss."

There is silence, then. Martin puts his hand in Elias's, out of his own volition. He is warm and unsure and all-encompassing. Elias attempts to smile at him.

This is going wonderfully. What if he had stayed with Prentiss longer? Would he be even more eager to jump into Elias's arms?

"Martin -" He starts and for once he isn't even certain of what he's going to say. Something ridiculous, probably. Something that will complicate things, when he hasn't even figured out what he wants of Martin.

"Elias," Martin says, docile, looking for all the world like he *loves* Elias in this moment. 

His gaze hardens suddenly, although he doesn't pull his hand away. "How did you know anything about what happened to me? I've only told Jon, and he hasn't been up here since I gabe him my statement. You've thought I was out sick, same as everyone else. Or - or you _should_ have."

Elias smiles. "You and Jon were talking about it as you came up - I apologize for eavesdropping." (They had been. The door to his office is purposefully near impossible to eavesdrop through, but Martin has no reason to know that.) "I do appreciate that you gave a statement, though, I hadn't heard that."

This seems to satisfy him. His gaze does not turn to that iense, passionate thing it has been before, but he doesn't look quite so accusing. "Okay - Okay. I'm sorry, it's just been...a couple of weeks."

"No need to apologize, really. Why don't you head back downstairs and sit down for a while. I'd offer you the couch in here, but it seems like you'll have plenty of opportunity to get sick of me."

"Right. Okay. Uhm, may I have my hand back?"

Oh.

Perhaps Elias needs to give this entire thing some serious thought this afternoon. He is apparently more attached than he'd originally thought.


	4. life has loveliness to sell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, but I just wanted to get it out tbh!! Let Jonah Magnus have owned the same house since 1830

Elias's house is...Actually not really what Martin was expecting. He was thinking something more modern, like a penthouse, somewhere. Maybe not far from the Institute. Modern and wholly impersonal. 

This isn't...any of those things, really. It's a small-ish Victorian thing. Still bigger than any house Martin's ever lived in, (and he'd lived in a lot of houses until he was ten or so) and not really small, but smaller than he's expected, in any case. It's powder blue, with white trim, and it's got an honest to God rose garden in front. And that isn't...Martin isn't getting why Elias isn't rushing him into the house before the neighbors are him, because it is definitely one of those neighborhoods. 

Elias...doesn't though. Just carefully picks up his nice leather laptop bag from where it's sat between them in the car, and walks at a perfectly reasonable pace up to the porch. Martin takes a bit longer to fumble with the car door and grab his own bag, but he makes up for it just fine when he sees someone across the street watering their flowers with a hose and _staring_. At _him_.

Elias doesn't seem to notice this happening, though, he just opens the door and throws an arm out, waits for Martin to enter. Which he does, fast. 

He hears the door shut behind him, but is already busy looking around. Not...Well, yes. It's impersonal, like Martin had expected. There aren't any photographs of people that he can see in the walls, and there really aren't any signs of this house being lived in, but it looks....

Artificially cozy? Like something out of a magazine, sort of? Martin doesn't understand Elias at all, but this is another thing entirely. Elias flicks the light on. It buzzes for a moment and the light flickers, like they're the old bulbs, and the house is flooded with warm light.

"You live here?" Slips out of his mouth before he can stop it.

Elias laughs, and it's a funny thing. Like he doesn't quite know how to do it. "Yes, Martin. Not what you were expecting?"

He settles on. "No, I guess not."

The hard wood flooring is covered in a blue rug, and the future matches, cream with blue flowers. It's...pretty. And there are - Martin almost laughs - there are lace curtains in the window.

"Make yourself at home, please. The guest rooms are upstairs and down the hall, to the left. My room is on this floor, past the dining area. The bathroom is on this floor too, at the end of the hall. Do figure out what you'd like to eat for dinner, and I'll order something when I finish sending out the quarterly budget."

"I - Thank you."

Elias disappears, then, but Martin is still staring at the...Parlor. It's a parlor, or something like it, at least, and wondering how Elias lives _here_ , of all places. It feels just a touch off from homey. Martin could - he could fix that. 

His breathing has quickened, at some point, and Martin decides to sit down, just for a second, on the couch. And then he suddenly realized how exhausted he is. When was the last time he properly slept? Fourteen, fifteen days ago? It wouldn't hurt, right. 

He has his questions about Elias, especially about his involvement in well...everything, but Elias is his soulmate, right? He'll explore later. He'll just take end, fifteen minutes to nap on this very pretty, very old couch where he's safe (or as safe as it probably gets) and then figure out what to do from there.


	5. self esteem fund

Usually, when he leaves the Institute, the feeling of being watched goes away. Here, it...It hasn't. And normally, Martin would be worried by that. But...It's preferable to the feeling of having been alone in your apartment for two weeks, with nothing but the incessant knocking of a monster for company.

He's been mostly asleep for an indeterminate amount of time, taken out of a full sleep because of the feeling of eyes on his...well, everything.

He should get up, and look around more of the house, and see if he can't at least put his things away in the guest room, if not get a better sense of the area. 

Okay, he will. In just a minute. This couch is awfully soft, and Elias isn't apt to be back anytime soon anyways, if he's working on a budget.

"Martin." This time it's a voice that drags him out of sleep. He cracks an eye open and is met with Elias leaning over him, one eyebrow quirked upwards. "My, I know you've had quite the couple of weeks, but I suppose I hadn't realized that it would have as much of an effect on you as it has. Are you awake?"

Even having just woken up, that sentence just sounds...off.

"Mmm? Sort of? I - I - Sorry. I just -"

"Do stop apologizing, will you? I suspect you needed the rest that you managed." 

"Right." He gets halfway through another sorry, sitting up and his head spins. "How long was I asleep for?"

Elias shrugs. "A bit over an hour. I've started dinner, it ought to be ready in a couple minutes. Why don't you take your things to your room?"

Martin nods, and hoists his small bag over one shoulder, and starts off down the opposite hall where Elias had pointed to earlier, towards the stairs. He stops, still within view of the kitchen still, through the parlour. He's bent over the gas stove, stirring something. It's achingly domestic, and if Martin still wasn't sort of freaked out from earlier, he might call it nice.

And...And now he can't just ignore this, right? Elias is...Elias is his soulmate. 

Oh god, Elias is his soulmate, but there's something about Elias that isn't right. He knows more than he's letting on, not to mention. Martin's not stupid, he knows all of this, and that staying with Elias was the best way to get an idea about what's too on, but it still feels like a trap, and Elias wearing something other than a suit and cooking dinner is the first step into it all.

The upstairs guest room is large and strangely shaped, but not drafty or dark like he might have expected. The room is just as carefully out together as the rest of the house, complete with a four-poster bed that has covers that match the striped olive green wallpaper. For now he just bothers to set the bag down on the end of the bed and peer at his reflection in the mirror across the room.

As expected, he looks like a disaster. He'd rushed in this morning as soon as he'd quadruple checked the door, and hasn't brushed his hair since...actually, he doesn't remember. Not to mention how tired he still looks even after somehow managing an hour nap!

Martin tries to smooth down his hair, although without a brush its mostly futile. And then he goes back downstairs, finding Elias with a sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he sautees something that was probably vegetables at one point but now is beginning to look like charcoal.

He sees a slight flash of black a few inches down from Elias's elbow and immediately looks away. Not that it helps. He knows what it says, it's just...

Even though everything about this is undeniably weird (even in a more mundane sense) Elias is being horribly nice to him when he doesn't have to be. Even trying to make him dinner.

(At least Martin knows there's one thing he can do that Elias can't.)

It still sets off the part of Martin that _knows_ that people only do nice things for him when they want something. He doesn't know what Elias could possibly gain from him, but historically speaking, it probably isn't great. 

"C - Can I do something to help? I could get plates and stuff out, if you want?"

Elias doesn't look up from where he's meticulously stirring. "Would you? The plates are in the cupboard just to your right." Of course. Of course Elias eats on china dishes reguarly. He doesn't know what else he expected. Elias follows behind him and shovels out the close approximation of food before sitting down. Martin does the same, and tries to not look too hard at what has to just be a very burnt self-defense before he starts eating.

It's a superficial feeling kind of normal, with the crackling of tension between them.

Martin gets maybe two bites in, slowly chewing and trying not to make his opinions on the dish too obvious.

He looks up at Elias for a split second, and Elias notices and smiles, and for once it looks actually genuine. He feels a bit like a prey animal, just then and quickly turns his attention back to the plate, but it doesn't last very long.

"I'm afraid I don't know all that much about you, Martin." Except _yeah_ , it seems like he kind of does. "What sorts of things do you get up to outside of work?"

"I write poetry, I guess. And knit, but other than that I'm pretty boring." Pretty boring was an understatement. That was okay, he didn't mind being boring, and Elias probably wasn't all that much better. He had a specific day he locked himself in his office, and Rosie fielded all his calls. I mean, who did that, right?

"I wouldn't have guessed you wrote poetry," he says. It's oddly flat, in a way to suggest that he absolutely would, but with no sarcasm to it at all. He doesn't even know what to say to that, just ends up shifting uncomfortably. 

"Uhm, yep. I don't think it's any good, but it's...relaxing, I guess. What about - what about you?"

He doesn't seem to expect that turn of the conversation. Which, honestly makes Martin want to hear whatever's he has to say even more. Elias takes a other bite, likely giving himself time to think. Martin does the same. 

Yep. Still tastes horrible.

"I'm afraid that running the Institute doesn't leave me much free time," he says thoughtfully. "I read a great deal, though. Of everything. I have a library, even. Old books, mostly. Not to say it rivals the Institute's, of course but I consider it an impressive collection. You're welcome to look at it, it you'd like. Just, there are a couple books that shouldn't be...handeled, but I can point them out for you." 

"I'd love to, just, maybe not tonight." And then the last part registers. "Wait, you have _Leitners_ in your _house_?!"

Elias just shrugs. "They're relatively harmless ones, but yes. I suppose that I do?"

"Uhm, can. I say something?"

He gets an eye roll. Like, an actual eye roll. This cannot possibly be real. This is some weird worm fever-dream, spurred on by the fact that he wishes this whole soulmate thing would've ever worked out for him. "Martin, we're housemates for the time being. Furthermore, I'm your boss, not your Commandant. Not to mention -" 

"Yes, yes, I know that last part. I just - I'm kind of at your mercy right now, since I can't go back to my apartment -"

"My apologies if that's how I made it sound. If you're not comfortable staying here -"

"No, I'm fine. I'm good. I just - Keeping Leitners in your house seems like kind of a dumb idea. I mean, artifact storage has to lock them in separate rooms from each other, right?"

"These don't interact, but yes, you're correct. A lot of them can't be in the same room or things get...nasty. Have you done a great bit of research on them?"

He shakes his head. "Mostly everything I've picked up has been from Tim and Jon talking about them, so not really."

At this, Elias smiles, and it's one of the usual ones. Hollow, doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Ah, so Jon isn't a skeptic all of the time."

"No. he's actually quite serious, when it comes to Leitners. I guess I can't blame him, when we actually have them upstairs."

"Are you, Martin?"

"Pardon?"

His smile goes wider, and Martin's brain sets off a little alarm, the same way it had this morning. _Trap_! It screams. _Don't answer, he's trapping you!_ "Are you a skeptic?"

"No," he says slowly. How can he possibly be? "No, I don't suppose that I am. And you?"

Elias stands then, takes his own empty plate and sets it in the sink before thing back towards Martin. "No, Martin. I'm not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but this venture absolutely started as a way to make Martin impressed, but Elias hasn't had to learn to cook in his entire life and by the end of this meal, he's realized it's horrible and is just eating Martin politely eat.  
> The only time he gets this much enjoyment out of anything is when he gets to invite the Lukas's to social functions, or his taxes. That's it.


	6. so can we pretend sweetly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now ft. Chapter titles!!

He gets a ride to work with Elias the following morning. If it was anyone else, he might eat he wasn't feeling very well and stay to - well, it's snooping. There's really nothing better to call it, but maybe he'll have the chance to do it tonight.

There aren't any worms outside the Institute. He supposed he was expecting them. It's lovely to be wrong.

They part ways at the front desk (Martin ignores the questioning look Rosie shoots his way) and he resigns himself to a long day of work. 

Martin barely manages to sit down at his desk and get his desktop booted up before he has Tim splayed over his desk like he's a lounge singer and Martin's desk is a piano. "Sooooo...."

"Good morning, Tim."

Tim sits up a little and waggles his eyebrows. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes?"

He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all, the way Tim's looking at him, draped over his desk the way he is. "Well, we have a little friendly office bet going. You know, me and Sasha and Rosie."

"And what's it about?"

Tim just grins. 

"Tim." He doesn't get a reply. "Timothy."

"I need you to tell me if you're shagging Elias."

There's a beat of silence, and then another. "What?!" He manages finally. " Y - You made a bet on if I'm - Tim!"

"Well he didn't just offer you his home to be nice!"

His options here are bad and worse. Tell Tim the truth, or tell him he's sleeping with Elias. Martin can't possibly tell them the truth, right? Tim might not care, but he's tell Rosie, who's basically the HR department, and there are rules about working with your soulmate.

Maybe he's being ridiculous about this. He probably is - He's usually pretty ridiculous except this feels like a huge thing. 

He doesn't need to make a decision, or even open his mouth. Tim sits up on the desk and clasps Martin on the back. "Ah, there it is, the exact shade of red I was hoping for. You've got game, I knew it! Elias isn't _my_ type, but honestly? Good for you, Martin. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go make the rounds and collect my hard-earned winnings."

Oh. Lovely. Give it a couple of hours and between Rosie and Tim, everyone in the Magnus Institute is going to think he's - and Elias -

It's goodwill email time, before he even needs it. He just hopes Elias isn't too upset by Martin emailing him at work, on the work servers. It seems like a thing, anyways. 

'Could I make dinner tonight?'

It's kind of funny. That message, five words is followed by the entire professional signature that's attached to the end of every email, and that is...unwieldy, really. 

It's just as well, he gets an even shorter reply about three minutes of attempted follow-up later. 

'Yes.'

Just yes. Unenthusiastic, but not upset. More than okay with Martin. 

Maybe that'll negate some damage. Worth a try, at least. 

Martin has just settled into trying to decipher both Jon and Albrecht von Closen's handwriting into a legible set of notes and possible routes for further research when Jon himself comes about halfway out of the office. 

He's so quiet Martin doesn't even notice him for a second, but he coughs slightly and Martin turns to where Jon's leaning in the doorway. "Martin, may I speak to you for a moment? Alone?"

"Oooh," says Tim. "Someone's in touble!"

Sasha punches him in the arm, and Martin nods and stands up, disappearing into the office behind Jon. Once the door is shut behind him job immensely takes hold of one of his arms and lifts it up, and starts doing...something. "Uhm," He starts but that's all he can really manage.

Jon stops for a moment, and looks up at him. "You'd tell me, if something was wrong? I know I haven't always been the kindest to you, Martin. Especially when your work ethic has been involved, but with the week you've had, someone needs to watch out for you, and God knows you aren't going to do it yourself." He sighs. " I'm sorry. You can just...You can imagine my surprise when - well you haven't exactly been friends with Elias up until this point, and it really isn't like him."

Jon's worrying about him? Why can't things be easy, why can't they live in a world where Jon felt like he could be this nice all the time, and Elias wasn't hiding something, and...But it can't. It isn't worth dwelling on, even. He'll just keep going, like he always has. It won't matter in a couple days, when Jon remembers he's incompetent again, or when the other shoe drops with Elias, or when either of them realize he's lying.

(He can just enjoy it for now though, can't he? Even while everyone else is going to be hearing differently, can't Jon be his confidante in this?)

Martin pulls up his other sleeve just past his wrist and holds it out.

"Oh. I see. I think. And he has yours?"

Martin nods. "It's kind of - I don't really want anyone to know. It's not going to be, like, a thing but still."

Jon scoffs, and rolls his eyes and he can't help but smile, because this? Familiar territory, finally. "I'm not exactly much of a gossip." And then he starts to wrench his own sleeve up, and Martin goes to stop him, but he just lets out a loud buff and keeps going. "It's only fair. And I doubt you'll tell."

There are two names on Jon's arm. One is black block letters , "Georgie Barker". The second is a faint grey, and while Martin knows full well what that means, the name is... "Gerard Keay? Like...like goth book burning, hospital - that Gerard Keay?"

"Well, I'm not certain I know of any other Gerard Keay's."

"Right, right. Sorry. Just...wow. I guess that solves that mystery."

Jon looks down at the ground for a minute, pulling back on his sleeve. They sit in silence, and Martin wonders if he should very quickly thank him for worrying over him and get out, but Jon beats him to it, time businesslike and ready to snap again. "Do you have the typed transcription of statement 8163103 finished?" 

"Uhm, almost. Was - Was the wife's name Clara or Carla?"

Jon actually throws his hands up in exasperation. "Hell if I know! Just choose one and stick with it, won't you?"

Martin makes omelets for dinner. It's not especially fancy, but it's simple and Elias already has everything for it, although he doesn't seem to have much food around. Maybe he ought to make a shopping list? 

Elias comes in to the kitchen when he's about done, comes up behind him and takes a long, deep breath. "Oh, that smells lovely." ( Better than your stir-fry, Martin doesn't say.) "I wasn't aware you could cook?"

"Oh, yep! I might be a little bit rusty, but I taught myself to cook and bake."

"Really."

They settle into the same seats as the previous night and into a comfortable silence, until Elias hums. "How was your day?"

Martin can't help but smile at the table. It's such a normal attempt at conversation, but Elias manages to make it sound so formal and cold. He's sure he doesn't mean to, but still. "It was - It was fine. Very productive. Yours?"

"Just fine. Actually...I did speak with Rosie today. She gave me the...What's it called? The shovel talk, that's it."

Ah. As it does, the other shoe has dropped. He narrowly avoids dropping his fork. "I didn't say - Tim just sort of - he thought -"

"You really should have told me we were having relations. I would've taken you out to eat, first."

Then he does _drop_ his fork. It falls to the plate with a loud clank. Martin flinches, but the plate hasn't broken. "I - Oh?" Who says that? Having relations? Why does he want to hear more, especially with the tone Elias has taken?

"Yes."

"I - uhm..." What does he want to say? He wants to ask what else Elias would do, just to hear it, because he's _curious_ of all things. "I'm sorry," he decides on. "I should have just told Tim the truth and then...Y'know, it wouldn't have been an issue."

"Gosssip is a...regrettable, but not an optional part of any workplace, Martin. They'll all have forgotten in a week or so. And furthermore, Mister Stoker is not entitled to every detail of your personal life to determine the outcome of a petty gamble."

Sometimes it seemed like he just slipped, and Elias knew things he shouldn't have. Rosie wouldn't have told him about any bet she's made. There was no reason for him to know. Martin decided to file it away, for when he had more evidence.

"Oh. That's...reassuring. And it's - I'm okay with people knowing, I mean, it's just a name on my arm, right? What does it really mean? And - and there are laws and stuff, I guess...but -"

"But?" He doesn't look distraught or annoyed or even pleased in the slightest about Martin's comment. That's...that's good. As long as he has no illusions about where they stand. Everything from before was just...just a joke. "You're worried that they won't see it that way."

Martin's starting to worry _he_ won't see it that way. 


	7. my songs do not belong to me

He's panicking. Genuinely panicking, and it is an exhilarating feeling. Not enough to really cause a noticeable change in his.posture or demeanor. Her knows Martin will be alright. And Jon will be _perfect_ , but he would have definitely preferred to have the situation under a tighter control.

Elias had promised himself that this wouldn't affect work - Martin would be nothing more than a curiosity, but it is far too late for that. 

They're in a tunnels now, and he can't see them. His heart jumps, and he has to stifle a laugh. This is fascinating, really. He's never been in love before, and Martin is so...They aren't the same in any way. Martin is trusting and naive and lacks any sort of ambition, and yet Elias finds himself worried about his well-being anyways. 

It simply isn't logical. 

He taps the wall near the fire suppression system idilly, waiting for the moment they surface, and then long enough for Jane to get a good go at his Archivist. 

Martin doesn't come up from the tunnels when the other two do. Tim and Jon are taken into quarantine. He's barely say when he feels it, and he stops pretending to not feel anything. After all, it doesn't exactly matter what The-Thing-That-Isn't-Sasha-James thinks of him. He laughs. 

She looks at him, "Are you alright?"

"Just fine. If you'll excuse me?"

One of the police officers is helping Martin out of the trap door. He's Seen something. And he's scared. Delicious. 

No. More than delicious. He's not certain what it is, but Elias is suddenly starving. And it would be so easy to feed here, right now. Except that there is very suddenly a teary, snotty Martin tucked into his chest, and he is not going to do that.

He is...not going to break Martin for the sake of a small meal. There will be someone else, someone better. 

"Okay," the officer says. Bassira Hussain. He is flooded with a wealth of personal information that would be useful any other time but mostly acts as a minor annoyance now, as he's going to calculate the dry cleaning time for this particular suit. "Mister...Mister Blackwood, you're going to have to make a statement."

She has the audacity to look like she's trying not to smile. Yes, Elias is well aware that he is much, much smaller than Martin and they must make quite the sight, but there are larger tasks at hand.

"Give him a moment please, Officer Hussain. We have all had a long day."

She nods and turns around to face her partner and roll her eyes. Elias raises his hand and moves slowly towards Martin, as if not to frighten off a wild animal. He ends up with a hand stoking through his hair carefully. Martin let's this happen for just a moment before a long sniffle. "I'm sorry," he says.

Not so sorry as to move, though. "You're alright. Why don't you go give officers Hussain and Tonner your statement, and then I'll see what I can do about letting you go home, alright?"

Letting _them_ go home. 

Hmm.

Not really, of course. He suspects Jon will want a full account from everyone on today's events, and he's not going to argue. 

Martin pulls back to look at him, eyes watery and red, and face ghostly pale except where blood pools around his eyes, and nose, and cheeks. "Elias," he says, obviously trying not to break down into sobs again. "I saw...I found Gertrude down there."

He thinks that this is the moment his plan derails. In truth, it was long before this, when he'd taken one look at the name on an entirely fabricated CV and decided to take a chance.


	8. and it would seem we'll never be apart

Elias is halfway through a loaf of bread to go with stew when he remembers why he doesn't do this. Cook, that is. He Knows (or is fairly certain he Knows) that you're supposed to over salt stew,.so when it cooks down it's fine. 

Or was that something else? Does it matter? 

For curiosities sake he looks at Martin. He is where he expected him to be. Just upstairs, curled into a small ball beneath the quilts on the bed. Still _scared_ , and itching at his arms. He must have gotten up at some point, because the things he'd left scattered around his room are nicely packed into his backpack. 

He must be thinking that with Prentiss gone, he can go back to his own flat. Knowing Martin, he sees himself as an obstacle in the way of Elias's everyday life. Ridiculous. It hasn't yet been five hours since they'd left the Institute and Martin needs time to recover. Just because he isn't dotted with points of entry from worms like some of his co-workers doesn't mean he hasn't been harmed in any way. 

There is something about the tunnels that are wrong, and to someone who didn't know them, couldn't See, they would be a special sort of unsettling.

And the tunnels - he has some ideas about them, but they pose too much of a risk at the moment. He is just getting started. Most of the tunnel exploration will likely be done by Jon, who has a mounting sense of paranoia now that he knows of Gertrude's fate and nowhere to properly point the blame. 

It will be amusing, to see how it all plays out. 

Elias decides to throw the bread in the oven, despite the fact it has yet to rise after an hour and a half, and then heads upstairs.

The hallway light is off, as is the one in the guest room. Elias knocks, and Martin answers, almost immediately. "C - Come in!"

He does, and considers just lingering in the doorway, but instead comes to stand beside the bed. "How are you doing?" He says, and it's apparently very much the wrong thing because Martin starts sniffling again. 

"I don't know, I guess I should be glad Prentiss is gone for good. But I - I've never seen a body before. And she was -" And then the crying starts.

It goes on for a minute or so. Elias has exactly no ideas on how to deal with the crying, not to mention what to make of Martin's distress over Gertrude's body. And he's definitely not getting more snot and tears on any of his clothes if he can help it, so he decides to just hold out his hand in a fairly non-obvious way, and if Martin wants, he can -

He catches on quickly, it seems. The crying softens after another minute. "S - Sorry he says. It's just...There was a lot of blood, and I mean, someone had to do that to her, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so. It's rather unlikely she managed to shoot herself that many times."

Martin gives him a look, then. He Knows that he is the only one privy to that particular look, and that is not a good thing. He Knows exactly how many times he's been given that exact same glare. (Seven.) "How many times was it, again?"

Damn. 

"Martin -"

Martin sits up, still holding his hand and narrows his eyes at him. "When do I get to know what's going on around here? We're supposed to be _soulmates_ , and you don't even like me enough to tell me how you do that or anything!"

"That's not what you wanted from me. You wanted to be left alone."

"Maybe - I'm not - That's not the point! Did you kill her? What did she know?" 

"Martin, think about what you're saying. Why would I have killed Gertrude? And Know what? You've had a very long day. Just rest, and I'll bringing dinner when it's ready. If you really want to talk about this tomorrow morning then we can. But please don't start pointing fingers, you're just as bad as Jon." 

This seems to be good enough for Martin at this moment, he falls silent and Elias stands up and disappears outside the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin: I saw a dead body and it was not a great experience  
> Elias (Qualifies as a serial killer at this point, maybe. Will murder people for slight inconveniences):  
> 


	9. and the great look of love, long hidden

He doesn't bring it back up. Elias isn't sure if it really was a concern, or if Martin truly was just having a panic after the events of the previous day. It doesn't really matter, Elias gives him space and goes to work, although the Institute feels dreadfully empty without the Archive staff in. 

Martin is still in bed when he's opening his to-do list. It is...unfortunate that he cannot make the first move in this situation, because otherwise he might've stayed with him and attemped...comfort.

Elias is not in practice with these things. He never was in practice, and courtship from when he does remember how to do it has long, long since fallen out of fashion, but any attempts on his part would likely be enough to sway Martin from his previous line of questioning. 

He'll leave it alone as long as Martin does.

He finds Martin on the sofa when he arrives home, knitting. He's only a few rows in, but Elias has the benefit of Knowing what he intends to make (as well as the exact blend and price of the wool and the size of his needles, which are trivial facts in the moment but interesting nonetheless).

It's an afghan, white and the blue-grey he's working with now. It's meant to sit on the back of the sofa he's sitting on now. Or at least, he has held up the yarn to the back of it several times before he'd decided that it was right.

Cute. Cute seems like a good word for this, although he's not sure it's one he's used before. The furrowed eyebrows and the curls falling into his view. The knitting is - His mother taught him. His mother is also a bit of a sore subject, if Elias is remembering correctly. 

"Hello," he says, closing the door before leaning over the couch to get a better look. "You've certainly been busy."

Martin blinks at him and then frowns. "Well I didn't want to be bored. I'd have been fine to go back today, you know?"

"The rest of your team got the time off, it's really only fair that you did, too. There wouldn't be much work for you in the archives, for the same reason. Besides, I don't believe you're as well off as you're telling me you are."

"I'm fine," he says, setting down the knitting needles purely to crown up at Elias. "You really don't need to worry about me."

"And if I want to?"

Blood rushes into his cheeks and he suddenly refuses to look at Elias. "M - Maybe I don't want you to! No offense, but you're not exactly what might be considered ideal soulmate material with the way you're up to your arse in secrets. And I wouldn't - I'm not looking for..."

There it is again. He's expecting it, this time so he can handle it a little more gracefully. "You're being ridiculous. What do you think I've done exactly?"

"Look, if you don't want to tell me it's fine, I guess. But I'm not - I know you all think I'm stupid, but I'm really not. You know things you can't possibly have just overheard, and I know you've got to know what's going on here. The bigger - the bigger picture."

Huh. Perhaps ...perhaps he'd just slipped up, and Martin was more perceptive than he'd given him credit for. His heart swelled. Elias hums. "You make me forget myself, sometimes."

It only makes Martin's expression harden, and he glares at the beginnings of the afghan in his lap. "And you make me really, really angry, but I'm still here."

"Then you cannot possibly pretend you're not getting something out of some part of this." 

He doesn't reply, and picks back up his knitting needles. They start to black loudly and much faster than they were when Elias first entered the house.

He's knitting loudly because he's annoyed. How terribly petty. Elias comes around to sit next to him and leans close, but not so close to appear as though he's going to take action. "Let me court you?"

Martin snorts, but doesn't even bother to look up. "Be honest with me, and then we'll talk."

"I don't _like_ leaving you in the dark. It's for the best."

"Then tell me why you can't tell me. Since for the best was apparently letting Gertrude die - if not killing her yourself, don't think I've forgotten that! - and letting Prentiss....Letting Prentiss...You knew."

He had a faint idea, and let it go on when he had a hunch. He just can't see very well when it comes to the other entites, is all. That answer will not gain his confidence, nor will an apology suffice, so he shakes his head. "I'm not omniscient. I had thought you were sick, same as everyone else. If I had known -"

The knitting slows to a reasonable pace and Martin gives a long-suffering sigh. "I'm hearing that a lot. It's fine. Really. Just, next time..."

"There won't be a be a next time, I can assure you. I'm quite fond of you, and have no intention of letting you be used as a pawn."

Martin goes wide eyed and his flush goes away within the span of a moment. "A _pawn_? Oh my dear God, Elias -" He sucks in a quick breath and closes his eyes tightly, before opening them. "No, nope. Not asking. You're not courting me, do you hear?"

"Quite clearly."

(He is absolutely courting this clever man.)


	10. it fires the heart and sets the pace

Things don't get any more tense between them after that, which is sort of weird, but Martin won't look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Even when dealing with a possible (okay, more than possible) murderer with non-human qualities, Martin does his best to be polite. He's packed, he has been for a couple of days, and it has gone from not wanting to intrude on Elias to not wanting to be an accessory to murder, maybe.

Well, maybe that's a lie. He's curious, and Elias isn't going to tell him anything (so definitely not an accessory to murder?) but the main problem is that he's getting attached.

Actually, he's passed getting attached at this point. He's there. He's attached.

The point is, he can't stay here forever. He _shouldn't_ stay forever. It just...how exactly does he tell Elias that? 

They're sitting in the living area (Parlour. It's a parlour in every sense of the word, but Martin feels silly calling it that) after dinner, he's working on his knitting still, and Elias is tapping away at the keys on his laptop, utterly engrossed in work. 

He rehearses it in his head a couple times, sitting there.

_Thank you for letting me stay here, but given recent revelations I think it would be best if I moved back into my own flat._

(Nevermind how much he doesn't want to.) 

Martin coughs just a little, and apparently Elias was not as wholly encompassed in his work as he'd thought, because immediately he turns towards Martin and fixes him with his complete attention.

He could write poems about Elias's eyes. Impossibly grey-blue and intense. Fill whole cheap spiral notebooks coming up with synonyms about how his soulmate looks at him. "I just was thinking, Prentiss is gone, and there's really no reason -"

"If you'd like to leave, you're very much free to. Are you alright to return to your flat after what happened? I can't imagine it's the best place for you to be after all of that."

"How did you...? Oh. Of course."

"Nothing supernatural about it, I assure you. I saw your bag after the Prentiss incident."

Just mundane snooping then. That was...well comparatively it was okay. Rude, but okay. "Oh. I'm fine to go back." And then in a couple weeks everyone could be back to work and they could pretend it had happened at all. Well, except the snooping he was definitely going to be doing.

"Alright."

Martin had expected more of a fight about it. Maybe he wanted there to be, and that was all, but it seemed like there was going to be. "O - Okay. I mean, uhm...Thanks for letting me stay here."

"It was the very least I could do," he says, giving Martin a look that clearly says, _it was the very least you would let me do_ , and turning back to his laptop. Martin flees the premises, but only for long enough to grab stationary and put his (incredibly slow going) blanket away. 

He scribbles a few lines of synonyms for the word 'intense' before huffing out a frustrated sigh. "I'm going to bed, tomorrow I'll - you know."

"Sleep well." 

He moves out, and goes back to work, and it's all fine. Weird at first, and his flat doesn't feel right anymore, much less safe, but he'll deal with it if that's what he needs to do.

The first day back, there are flowers on his desk. A vase full of soft blues and lilacs, and pastel pinks.

Martin groans, and puts his face in his hands. Why does he have to make this hard? Martin's trying to stay out of the way, and trying not to make it into a thing, but of course, he should have known. Now he can't even sit at his desk. At least he's the only one in the bullpen. The light is on underneath Jon's office, but Martin wouldn't mind as much if Jon saw, as opposed to Tim or Sasha. 

After a solid couple minutes of soul-searching and deliberation, Martin sits down at his desk at decides he doesn't care. He can't throw the flowers away, that would be rude (and they're horribly pretty if not a little gaudy) and he can't very well answer questions about them, so he's going to do neither. 

There's a card, in the flowers. It has...it has a phone number. Martin laughs at the absurdity of all of this, and throws the number into his messaging program.

_'i said I am not doing this with you!'_

The response is immediate, which makes Martin laugh again.

_'Unfortunate. I can take them back, if you'd like? They'd look lovely in my office.'_

_'no! You dont take back gifts. Why?'_

_'Why did I buy them?'_

_'yeah. i told you I'm not having anything to do with you until you come clean'_

_'Perhaps I'm considering it, despite my better judgement. Does that surprise you?'_

Yes. Yes it did. Martin sits and thinks on that for a second. He starts typing, erases it again. Starts another sentence, erases it. Types out _'why me'_ , even though it's an obvious question, but he doesn't send it. Just stares at the screen until Tim loudly comes down the stairs, the rubber ends of his crutches making horrible squeaking noises on the polished stone.

"Wow," he says. "Expensive flowers. The boss get those for you?"

"I - I mean -"

Tim holds up a hand. "Say no more, I won't tell. I mean, they'll probably guess anyways, but whatever, right? I won't bring it up first."

"Gee, thanks. How are you doing?"

"Fine, barely even notice the worm marks anymore." Doesn't really sound like it. He knows Tim probably got the worst of it, and it makes him want to curl up in a ball and hide because he brought Prentiss here, but it also makes him want to shout because it occurs to him that Elias knew, and let it just...happen. 

Part of him wants to throw the vase and stomp upstairs and quit, but that part of him doesn't win out. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "If there's anything I can do... "

Tim just waves him off and starts to say something, but is interrupted by Jon coming out of his office. Martin watches his tired eyes widen after a split second, eyes trained just behind Martin, but Jon doesn't say anything.

_(Thank you.)_

He coughs and his eyes snap away. "Excellent, you're both here. We're going to need to re-do the follow up on the cases that the ECDC had to burn."

There is a collective groan from both of them, and the flowers on his desk are quickly (mostly) forgotten.


	11. hard sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeny tiny chapter in prep for the next one ;)

Rosie gives him a knowing look when he asks if Elias is busy, and sends him on up to his office.

"I'm coming to you as a - as a concerned employee with this. It's not...I know you like Jon, but you really should take an objective approach to what I'm telling you."

Elias finally, finally looks up from his desktop. "You have yet to tell me anything, Martin. I do enjoy your company plenty, but I'm quite busy. I'll take your concern seriously, but if you will get on with it?" 

He looks incredibly bored, and very much ready to turn back to his computer, and Martin can't help but feel flustered again. Elias is...He seems hot and cold towards Martin at the best of times, but after yesterday, it was mostly cold...what had happened yesterday? Oh. 

Was Elias upset that he didn't like the flowers? They were... Actually, they were at home in his kitchen in the nicest case-adjacent thing he owned, (a pickle jar) but he had acted iffy about them in front of him. That might be giving himself too much credit. Maybe he'd just had to make cuts to the budget. Or maybe the faucet in the kitchen was still drippy and the repair-person hadn't come yet.

"Martin, if we could focus on the matter at hand, please?"

He'd forgotten the spooky thing. Damn it, how'd he forget the spooky powers thing! "Sorry!" He says, but it comes out high and squeaky. "Uhm, I just went to see Jon, you know? And he has a - a coup!e pictures of Tim's house in his desk, and I think...I think maybe that's a whole thing? I think Jon thinks Tim killed Gertrude."

Which they both know isn't the case.

Elias's expression doesn't change from the default 'incredibly bored'. That's fine. It really rarely does, and when it does its kind of like an, 'amused you're having a bad time' or 'slightly less incredibly bored'. 

"I'll talk to him. The paranoia is...Well, it's less than ideal, but I'm certain we can resolve the issue. Is that all?"

"Uhm, yes. Thanks." What he really wants to ask is why Elias did it. Murdered Gertrude, that is. But he's not going to answer, right? Do why waste his breath. Elias promptly turns his attention away from Martin and Martin ends up just...standing there, for a while. 

The tapping comes to a slow stop. "Did you need something else? I don't believe that standing around in my office is part of your job as an assistant archivist, but if you'd like to re-negotiate your contract, maybe we can work something out."

"No! It's just...I didn't say thank you for the flowers yesterday, and they're really pretty, so I'm sorry I didn't say it then, but thank you. It was...thoughful."

Martin's sure he sees a hint of a smile for his troubles, just a blink-and-you'll-miss it quirk of his lips. Not that anyone would believe him even if he were sure.

"You're very much welcome. I thought you didn't want them?"

 _I do_. "I don't. It's just, they're -they're nice. I'll - I'll get back to work now. Thank you for hearing my uhm - professional concern?"

And then he flees, like the coward he very much is.


	12. positive reinforcement only in moderation please, let's not get carried away

Tim comes out of Jon's office looking even worse than he did before he went in there, which Martin considers a feat, being that Tim looks like shit lately. If Martin thought he could make Tim take care of himself, he would. For now all he can really do is suffer through the angry glares to bring him tea anyways, same with Jon. 

He grabs his jacket off his desk and shuts his laptop with more force than is strictly necessary. "C'mon," he says. "We're leaving."

"Tim, it's - it's two in the afternoon, we can't just leave!"

That gets...more than a little reaction. His whole face sort of scrunches up for a moment like he's trying not to cry, and Martin just prays that this isn't his breaking point, and Martin was not inadvertently the one to make him cry. "Like hell we can't, I'm getting a drink, and you're coming with me."

Let it get be said that Martin isn't a shitty friend, even when he's a shitty employee.

It's two, as previously mentioned. And Martin doesn't really start out intending to drink. Yes fussing over Tim, and texting Jon to tell him where they are (he says it's fine, but Martin knows that text cannot reveal the full spectrum of Jon's disapproving voice) then fidgeting some more, all while sipping a bright green drink that is deceptively good tasting, unlike most.strong alcohols.

"And he just doesn't give a fuck!" Tim is saying, while slamming the glass down in the table. "It'd be different if he apologized, like, _actually_ apologized but no! He's the only one who's been affected."

Martin just nods, because he's more or less tired for mediating this particular argument, and doesn't want to take a side. Instead he just offers his ear and his (kind of shoddy) company.

He's made a game of listening to Tim vent, and what responses he has to give. If he repeats a response he has to take a sip. If Tim says Jon's name in a comically angry tone, he has to take a sip. and so on and so forth. It goes on for God knows how long until Tim abandons him to get them more drinks.

Them?

Oh, them. Martin's glass is basically empty.

The thing is, though, is that Martin's kind of a lightweight. Actually he's very much a lightweight.

He's just had the one glass, but who knows what was in there, honestly. And that's when he gets a genius idea. Well, it sounded good, anyways but like most of Martin's ideas (and especially the ones he gets while tipsy) it's really only good in theory. 

He pulls up Elias's number in his phone.

'you still at work?'

_'It's only five.'_

'oh.'

I didn't know that, i can't see the clock from where im sitting'

_'I see. And are you and mister Stoker having fun during work hours?'_

'i punched out!

but not rly. 

when will you be off work?'

_'The same time as always. Why are you texting me, of all people?'_

'i thought maybe you could come pick me up and I could use my puppy dog eyes to make you tell me things

Im told theyre very good puppy dog eyes'

_'I'm sure that they are. If you need me to come get you I'll be happy to, but in case you didn't remember you have no interest in me, and I'm not especially keen to divulge my secrets to someone who doesn't want anything to do with me.'_

And this is where Drunk Martin comes into play. Martin hates Drunk Martin with the sort of burning passion that's usually only devoted to people who talk in movie theaters. 

'well maybe id be more interested if you were more husband materiel u know?

There is a slight lull before Elias's reply, and Martin notices Tim necking someone who could pass for a hotter Jon's stunt double across the establishment. That's certainly one way to cope, and Sasha and Rosie are definitely going to get a kick out of hearing it later. 

_'That's definitely a new one._

_Although I do admit I've absolutely never dated anyone._

_I have no clue how to go about it.'_

'the flowers were nice. 

Classic

I've never really been dated before either

So obvious evil things aside

I like chocolate 

And soft things? 

and we could go to the zoo or something??'

_'I'll keep all of those things in mind, thank you, Martin._

_Since mister Stoker has found himself a distraction for the evening, should I come and pick you up?'_

'that's really fucking creepy

but yes please'

* * *

Martin is drunk and tired and only about halfway coherent, but he throws up on the sidewalk and not on Elias, so he must be...sort of okay. 

Elias drives him home, after calmly reassuring him that Tim's already left with someone, which makes him feel better, if only a little bit. Hee doesn't even have to tell him where he lives, which is sort of nice. Elias even knows where the spare key is, behind the loose seven on the door numbers. Which is - that's good because Martin isn't sure _he_ could have remembered where it was.

"Jacket off," he remembers Elias instructing, and Martin had some difficulty with it and his shoes, but Elias never once laughed like he'd expect most people to do, just signed an airy little sigh and used one hand to steady him and one hand to help him. 

And there's a nice feeling. As electric as all the novels and television dramas said, although also uncomfortably hot, too, filling the room with a feverish heat. Or maybe that was just Martin. 

"You're still my boss," he says as Elias ushers him into the bathroom and watches him begin to brush. 

"I know," replies Elias flatly. "Your bosses boss, if we really wanted to delve into specifics."

"And you killed Gertrude. You could kill Jon." He says again, between brushings.

"The chances of that happening are astoundingly low. Jon is a very good Archivist."

Oh, like that makes him feel any better about being soulmates with a murderer. Elias sighs, like he'd said that all aloud instead. "Martin, I think you ought to go to sleep and dwell on this in the morning, instead."

That seems reasonable, actually. "Okay. Will you put the spare key back?"

"Of course. And I'll turn off your lights before I go."

Martin hums what feels like an affirmative. "Goodnight. Thank you for driving me home, even if we're not -"

"We're not?"

"We're not anything." Martin clarifies. "Thank you anyways. Maybe it was worth whatever you'll want, later."

Elias gives him a look that makes him think he's said something wrong, but he can't pinpoint what it was, not now, at least. "Yes, well. Goodnight, Martin. I'll likely see you tomorrow."


	13. except I know that I can't breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this chapter is just, Elias thinks he's making the decisions here but he's really not while gotta angstin over a choice you don't get to make jonah my man

"I simply don't understand it," says Elias, with one hand over a contract and the other pushing Peter's feet off of his desk for the second time during this meeting. Not that they're tying much of anything done, and for once that is entirely his fault. But who else does he go to with this sort of thing? Not that Peter is an expert, or will even give him the answer he wants to hear.

It's rather pathetic, when he thinks about it. That Peter Lukas is the only one he has to confide in these days. That everyone else is either dead or doesn't speak to him for reasons other than business. "You have a soulmate, right?"

"Yes," Peter sighs, sounding absolutely tortured. 

"And what do you do about it, exactly? In such a way that doesn't interfere with everything else?"

"Everytime I think of them I disappear out on my ship for several months where no one uses their real names, and I sacrifice as many people as it takes until I feel better. Occasionally, I sleep with you. That does an excellent job at diminishing any want I could possibly have at finding them an initiating anything."

Oh, the sarcasm. Were he not genuinely in need of the Lukas approval to the budget he might decide to arrange a meeting between Peter and his soulmate, so he just could see what happened and feed on the discomfort, but as it was he needed Peter in one piece. 

"Yes, well. I don't think either of those solutions are going to do me much good, but thank you for the helpful as ever input." Martin is trying to text him now, typing and deleting a message over and over again. He ought to not waste his time. Elias isn't even sure that he's going to answer, yet.

(Of course he will. And there's a box of cherry cordials Martin sighed at in the grocery store last week, so he knows exactly what kind of chocolates he's going to order, too. God, he's pathetic.)

He sighs. "Sign the budget and you can go back to moping on your own time."

"Funny," Peter says. "I was just going to say the same thing to you."

Elias doesn't hold back on rolling his eyes, this time, and his computer makes a quiet _bwoop_ sound which his attention is immediately on. Peter sighs again loudly, in a mockery of Elias himself, but scribbled at the bottom of the paper with a pen and doesn't even bother to disappear when Elias's attention is focused elsewhere.

_'I don't remember exactly what I said to you last night after you came and got me, but can we maybe pretend it didn't happen??'_

"Can I have it both ways?" Elias asks aloud, keys slacking under his fingers. He already knows the answer, doesn't he? "Can I have the world under my feet and still have Martin?"

"The one downstairs that's absolutely extending Loneliness? I think you'd better jump on that one before I decide I'm hungry and want your attention."

His heart jumps into his throat and his vision goes white with a barely repressed rage. He briefly entertains the idea of stabbing Peter's hand through with a oen, but then he'd have to find a way to fix the desk, and re-print the contract, so he merely shoots him an unamused look and continues to type. 

'No, I'm afraid I have the memory of an elephant. Do you really want to go to the zoo?'

_'no!_

_Well, yes._

_But not with you!!'_

'I'm deeply hurt.'

"Huh." He is indeed deeply hurt by that statement. Well, not deeply, but hurt nonetheless. "I want him to like me. I don't want anyone to like me. I haven't wanted anyone to like me since..." He can't even remember. So much for his excellent memory.

"You're a moron!" Peter tells him before dissolving into fog. Likely that's for the best - Elias would've stabbed him in the throat rather than the hand this time, had he remained in view. 

Obviously, he can't have both, as tempting as the image of Martin at one side of his throne and his Archivist at the other side is, he's well aware that it just isn't realistic, as Martin isn't changing his views on what he believes is right and wrong (It is such a lovely picture though, isn't it?).

So what is his decision? 

It isn't one to be made in a single afternoon, of course but action still has to be taken. If he tells Martin something to tide him over, what does Elias tell him to not upset the delicate balance in the archives? If he chooses to let Martin go...how does he do it? He could fire him, but he knows a great deal more than most people, and it could come back to him. 

(He can't kill Martin. That is...Well, he can't, as easy as a way that would be of getting his plans back on track.)

_'you wouldn't even want to go to the zoo_

_You're definitely not an animal person'_

This is everything he's worked towards since the beginning. This is his existence, his life, his crown, his God. Why would he let someone like Martin Blackwood destroy that?

(Martin's sitting at his desk right now, downstairs, figeting with a package wrapped up in grocery bags. Inside is a blanket, warm cream white to match the outdated floral sofas in Elias's living space, and cold grey-blue because that was what he had in his yarn box that wasn't a neon colour. He's trying not to yawn for the eleventh time in the past five minutes, and with his free hand he's scrolling through last night's nights texts over and over and wondering if he wants to be taken advantage of.

This is not a choice Elias really gets to make.)


	14. in a manner of speaking I'm dead

Elias does not tidy when he realizes that Martin is coming over to his house after work. This is really only because there is not anything to tidy, and Elias is not under any false impressions that Martin will want to stay after he's given him the poorly-wrapped up afghan. 

He hasn't ever been a particularly fussy man either. If someone wants to intrude on his so-valued privacy, any state he is in is the other person's problem. 

It doesn't stop him from not starting anything else, just looking every few moments to make sure Martin hasn't met some terrible (if not horribly unlikely) fate.

He opens the door a moment too soon, and Martin looks at him with wide, bright eyes for a split second before they narrow. "Couldn't even wait for me to knock?"

Apparently not. "I don't like wasting my time with trivial things."

Martin doesn't look particularly impressed. "Okay. Well, I brought you something. I'm sure you already know what it is, so I won't waste time telling you. I just figured I'd bring it by while I was out." 

Elias doesn't waste time telling him that he knows Martin was going out solely to deliver it. He makes up his mind about something, just then. "Why don't you come in, and we can see how it looks. And I'll make tea."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm - I'd better get home." 

Perhaps he's not the only one conflicted about this entire thing. "No, really Martin. I'd like to speak with you, if that's alright."

"I - oh? What sorts of things?"

"Well, I'm open to answering some of the questions you might have, about the institute, and the statements, and myself." And it's a terribly idea, but he's certain he can answer at least some things without trouble. Martin looks conflicted for a minute.

But he is Elias's, and the Eye's, and so the need for answers prevails. 

"Just for a little bit," he says, although Elias knows it's mostly to convince himself of this fact. "I'm not staying long." 

"It is entirely up to you, mister Blackwood." 

Martin huffs out an annoyed with but hands Elias the afghan and follows him to the house. "Rasperry or chicory?" He asks by way of tea after both Martin and the blanket are settled on the sofa. 

"Whatever's easiest," Martin says, shrinking in on himself. Elias didn't understand why he was so self conscious. Well, most he did, and it wasn't Martin's fault, really. If he didn't care for his mother so dearly Elias might subject her to Knowing exactly the effects she'd had on her son. 

He wanted raspberry. "I'm making you raspberry," he calls from the kitchen. 

"Okay," Martin sort of squeaks. "Uhm, can I maybe ask a question now. It's kind of - it's sort of been bothering me."

"Go right ahead. I'll only be a minute, so we don't have to keep telling across the house at each other."

There's a brief moment of silence, and Elias Sees Martin shuffle awkwardly and flush a lovely shade. "Can you read minds?"

"No," he says, and Martin visibly relaxes some in the other room. "It's a rather common misconception. A bit hard to explain, though. I can See or Know anything but it requires effort, sometimes a great deal. I'm also rather...good at people, which isn't a supernatural power, merely a skill I've built up." It helps to made educated guessed about future events or guess at a course of action someone will take. He's not often wrong anymore.

He's not met with a reply before the water is boiling. 

Martin takes the tea without really looking at him. "I - I have another one. I don't - I know chances of you explaining to me what's going on are rather low, because I could turn around and tell everyone else, and I _would_ , so just...what are you trying to accomplish, exactly? You have a - an end goal, right? Same as everyone else. So what is it?"

His soulmate continues to suprise. He wasn't expecting that. Not so soon, at least. Elias smiles. "That is a very big question, Martin."

"Great. I've got the time, I guess."

What to say? No one has been privy to his plans, before, and he is more than certain Martin would not approve of his plan. 

(This is only because he doesn't understand yet, right? He will grow to be grateful for his place in the new world Elias will create, whether he comes to this conclusion before it after it happens matters not to him. Oh, but he wants to start tell him. He wants to tell Martin everything, and have him understand now.) 

"Simply put, I want to reshape the world." 

The intention is not to scare Martin, but it is the effect anyway. His knees stop bouncing up and down and his healthy flush drains into a white-grey color, making his numerous freckles starker against his skin. Elias takes a deep breath in through his nose and tried not to dig deeper into what he's being offered.

"Oh my dear lord." Martin whispers. "I was right. You're - _oh, god_ \- you don't see anything wrong with that statement, maybe? Because that's terrifying."

Wrong with...? He laughs. He's been working towards this the entirety of his life. There is no other option. The other option is death, being forgotten and remembered as the dusty painting in the front lobby, as a man who had not anything in this world. Not credibility, not family, hardly knowledge, and have that be his end. 

And if he doesn't succeed, Martin will have to face that end, he realizes. And that is unacceptable. He just doesn't know how to make Martin understand. So maybe...he won't. Elias will go ahead with his plans, and he'll live with it. But he _will_ live. 

And Martin will hate him. And Martin will fear him. Hmm. Tolerable. Not the ideal scenario. 

Elias shrugs. "I understand why you'd think so, I suppose. You thinking so won't stop me, of course."

Martin laughs, this time, a little hysterically. "Of course not. I won't have anything to do with it. And I'd rather not be complacent in this, either but..."

"There's not exactly anyone to tell? So don't let your guilt get the better of you." 

Martin stands, swaying slightly as he does. He looks terribly ill. "I should...I should go. Can I - can I use your restroom, first."

It makes sense, that he's shaken. It will pass, in time. Elias nods. "You know where it is still, don't you?" Martin nods and rushes off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abrupt ending but it's a pov switch!


	15. and perfect people always lie

This is so, so stupid. Elias admits to being able to see anything and has evil plans, and what does Martin do? He goes upstairs and starts digging through things. 

It's like he's got a death wish, or something. 

Not that...well, he's pretty sure Elias wouldn't kill him, but he is a murderer. This was a bad idea, he's not sure why he's still here. No, he does know.

This isn't going to turn out like a romance novel or a movie, and he's known that for a long time, but there's just something worse about not knowing. Not just for him, but for Jon, and Tim, and Sasha, too. 

There's a locked box underneath the ned, barely hidden. They sort one would keep important documents in. There's a key hole, but he just pushes in the button, and it pops open. There are old pictures in the box, along with an equally old couple of papers, and a map. He doesn't think about it, just shoves them into his shirt, shoves the box back into place and puts the whole thing out of his mind. 

Elias is waiting at the end of the hallway, expression cool and neutral. Still he swarms Martin, but it's more...well, Martin knows fussing when he sees it, as weird as it is to see what Elias fussing looks like. 

"Are you feeling a bit better?"

"Sure." He says. "I'm going to...I'm going now. I'm not going to be a part of this." 

"Martin, it very much was not my intention to scare you. Your view of the world is rather small as of now - My plans do account for you. It's going to be..." He pauses, which is widely out of character, Elias at a loss for words? Not continuing to speak just to hear his own voice? For a minute Martin thinks he's been caught, but he still doesn't look angry. "You've gotten to me in a way nobody has ever quite managed, mister Blackwood."

"Yes, you've um - you've mentioned. I don't suppose that means you're willing to reconsider?" Elias shakes his head. Ah well, it was worth a try, right? "Alright. Well, I will uhm..I'll see you tomorrow. At work. For work." Smooth. Nice. "Enjoy the blanket?"

* * *

He gives it twenty minutes after he gets back to his flat to make sure he hasn't been caught and Elias isn't too to like, explore his brain or anything before he carefully sets the papers down on the table. The first is just writing. A contract. 

A contract for the building the institute's in, dated 1842. Martin's pretty sure this should be at the institute, not in Elias's...well, he hesitates to call it a personal collection. Safebox? 

The second paper is a letter. Actually, a lot of these papers seem to be letters. Martin just scans them for a date at first. The latest he can find is from 1872. The last three papers are easier to digest. A map, and two photos. One of a group of men, all be well dressed, and the other just of one man.

That man is...there's a portrait of him, in the lobby of the institute and other in Elias's office, and Martin's not quite sure what to think of the picture all of this is painting. 

He has Jon's number entirely for "work purposes" but if he skews this enough Martin's pretty sure it counts. 

_'sorry but do you think you could come over?'_ He asks.

'Why? More worms?'

_'no, nothing like that I just need an expert opinion on some documents'_

'Sure. Be there in thirty.'

Jon looks about his usual worse-for-wear when he shows up at Martin's door. Martin ushers him in and offers him a cup of tea, and Jon refuses. Ah. They're back to this, then. The paranoia, or whatever it is, exactly. He'd really, really hoped they were back to professional, at least, but he guesses he can't blame Jon. 

He just won't worry him with the details until he's sure, because Jon definitely doesn't need more to worry about yet, when Martin really doesn't know all that much more than him. 

He asks if he recognizes anyone in the group picture. Jon squints at it for a minute. "That's Jonah Magnus, near the middle. There." He points at the man who appears in no pictures, short compared to the others, hair tousled and eyes smiling even when his lips aren't.

Nothing about him is familiar except the slightly amused look in his eyes, the kind that says he knows he's got the upper hand and always will. Martin is far too familiar with that look.

And it doesn't make sense, except nothing has made sense for months, so what's one more thing on top of the pile? Martin swallows around the pump in his throat and nods. "And everyone else?"

"That must be Robert Smirke, next to him, and the tall one, the really tall one looks like every other Lukas I've seen. I'm not sure about the short one on Magnus's other side of the one who's got it in him to smile for as long as it would've taken to have a picture done around this year. How did you come across this, Martin? This ought to be in the library. Or hell, downstairs in document storage. Martin? And this map, it almost looks like...like the tunnels, in some places. Good lord, Martin, are you even listening to me?"

It started as an itch, a moment ago. he was paying attention, _really_ but it had only got worse and worse until he had to pull up the sleeve of his jumper and scratch, but then it turned to burning and the name on his forearm isn't Elias Bouchard anymore. 

_Jonah Magnus._

"I - Jon. I think - I think we have bigger problems."


	16. I can see how this will end

"It's not possible."

"Then explain it."

Jon just scowls and folds his arms across his chest, eyes flitting over the documents and back over Martin's wrist. "It - It can't be. Magnus is - he was born in -"

"Okay, first of all, I know all of that, but I also know we were attacked by a woman full of worms a couple months ago, and I know Elias has some kind of supernatural powers, _and_ we can't quit. So which is more likely, Jon? That this is possible, or that it isn't and somehow my mark is just _broken_." 

His head makes a little _clunk_ when it connects with Martin's kitchen table. "Okay," he says sounding muffled. "Okay, then what? Elias is - How does that even work? Jonah's possessing him, but the soulmark wants you to know you're supposed to be with Jonah and not Elias, whoever the hell the real Elias is, if he even ever existed! So what are we supposed to do to stop him?"

"I don't know. I don't know, I don't know!" He feels like he should have the answers. Martin got himself into this mess, after all. "He knows - if he knows everything - oh god." Now isn't the time for the epiphany he's just had. In the grand scheme of things, it means absolutely nothing. "He knew about my CV and still hired me!" 

Jon raises his head off the table enough to glare at Martin. "Now is very much not the time to address that. The more important thing is that he could be coming over here at any moment, since there is absolutely nothing stopping him from knowing what you're doing right now."

Strangely enough, he's less worried about that than about everything else. "I - yeah, your probably right. What about - what about the map. You said it kind of looked like the tunnels?" 

"Right. Ah. Well, that is an option, isn't it. See if I can't follow it to the end. Maybe there'll be more answers."

"Hang on! How come it's just I? I'm coming with you."

"No. It's dangerous. You're going to distract Eli - Jonah, and make sure no one else gets hurt. He's not going to hurt you, being that he hasn't already, and you've given him plenty of reason."

This is a stupid plan, maybe stupider than stealing the documents in the first place, but they're out of options and Jon is - he's right. Elias is still in 'underestimate Martin' mode, or at least is too...Ha. Haha. Elias Bouchard - Jonah Magnus is too head over heels for Martin Blackwood to want to hurt him. 

The universe is a huge joke, because when he looks at that picture or thinks about the lunches they'd had with Elias before they'd been moved out of research, and laughing with Sasha about the fact Martin thought he was handsome, and the flowers on his desk or the terrible dinners he'd eaten out of politeness, Martin was a little had over heels, too. 

"Fuck," he groans, mirroring Jon in resting his head on the kitchen table. "Okay, let's do it." His phone chooses this moment to buzz.

_'_ You'll want to go to the Institute, I left my home some time ago. Tell Jonathan I said hello.'

"Fuck."

"Let me guess," Jon says flatly. "He's already beaten us there."

It barely comes out. "Yep. So I guess our decisions made for us." The ride down to the institute is beyond tense. "For what it's worth," He says near the last stop on the tube. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

"What? You didn't get me into this mess, Martin. I took the job Elias offered me, that was all."

"I know, but - but he offered it to me first. I suggested you."

"You did?" Jon says, sounding beyond confused. He didn't know? "After I was awful to you the entire time we were working together?"

Martin shrugs. "You were the right person for the job, either way. Besides, I know I'm not a fantastic employee or anything, it isn't like I don't deserve it."

"You don't deserve it!" Jon says, with a sort of conviction Martin has rarely heard from him. Why's Jon trying to defend him now? Is it because he thinks this is his last chance to make something right? Is it because even though Martin is guaranteed safety in this endeavor, Jon is not? 

"And you don't have anything to apologize for. Really, I don't - I don't care!"

Jon huffs again and folds his arms. "Well, I'm apologizing anyways." 

"Well, I can't stop you then, can I?"

"No. So I'd suggest you accept it."

"Apology accepted, then."

They're silent for the rest of the trip, but that's okay. He's not doing this alone. Jon is here, and they're going to be okay. Martin takes another look at the name on his wrist. He's gotten this far, hasn't he? It doesn't matter what he says to Elias, or what Elias says to him (although Martin can't lie, he's looking forward to getting an explanation).

Nothing Martin can tell him will change his mind - so he's done lying, and dancing around issues. Martin is going to be entirely upfront and honest, and although it's likely too much to hope for, he's going to hope he gets the same in return.


	17. but everything looks perfect from far away

The first ten years of Elias's unnaturally long life and it's connection with his soulmate goes something like this.

Most parents are happy enough to read their child's name for them, but Elias can count on one hand the amount of times he's had a conversation with his mother longer than ten minutes on one hand, and his father on the other (and in this he is very much a product of his time). His nanny refuses, when he finally has the words to ask, and then refuses to explain why. The other servants whisper behind his back in words he doesn't understand, and maybe this is the source of his driving curiosity - spite. 

He learns to read, solely so he can read the pretty letters on his arm for himself. He's four and a half and left practically alone in a very large house with an equally large library, and he supposes he's fortunate in that regard.

The name on his arm is 'Martin Blackwood', and he resolves in his tiny mind to find Martin as soon as possible. Then there will be no more whispers or sneers or any of it. He will have someone to talk to, to read with, to sit near.

For a time in his adolescent years, when his parents are still pushing him towards eligible young ladies and he is still ultimately alone, he wonders quite frequently what Martin is like, and why they have not yet crossed paths. He knows by now, that this sort of thing takes time, and they are not likely to do so for several years, but he still wonders. 

Nothing could have really prepared him. Martin is - he's lovely, and intelligent, and far, far too kind. He's not sure Martin would have done well in the world he grew up in - it's simply hard to say. But he does wish that they could have met sooner. 

Perhaps then things would not have to go as they are now. He draws the paper up from out of the filing cabinet and sits at his desk, watching Jonathan head down to the archives and Martin head upstairs to his office, where the only light in the building is on. 

He slips on his reading glasses, makes sure everything is in order before pulling out a second paper and setting it on top.

The door to his office opens and closes quietly, and Elias ignores the way the light is like a wreath of gold around Martin's head like a halo, and the stern expression on his face makes him appear like a righteous angel. "Martin," he nods solemly. "You're very much welcome to sit - even if this doesn't take us very long, the Archivist will likely be traversing the tunnels for some time."

Martin slowly scoots out the chair on the opposite side of his desk "Do you know what's down there?"

"That is not how we're going to do this. A question for a question."

"Then that's my question. If there's something down there that's going to hurt him, I need to know." 

Loyal to a fault, he supposes. "I don't know. What that map you found to doesn't lead to anything that will get him, but there is something down there that is...let's call it an unknown variable." 

Martin pales a bit, in response to his admission of ignorance about the contents of the tunnels, but it is his turn, now and he does not intend to waste the question. "Are you disappointed?" 

It works in that he gets a healthy flush to his cheeks again. "I - what?" He doesn't answer. Martin founders for a moment before frowning. "I mean - a little. I hoped - well, I know the best I could have really hoped for was someone who'd use me and then leave me alone. So am I disappointed that you're an evil monster? Not really. It's been sort of par for the course. I guess I'm more disappointed in myself for continuing to participate. I know I can't quit, but I could've just stopped. I still don't know what's stopped me."

"Do you suppose -"

"You don't get to break your own rule. It's my turn." Martin snaps. Like he didn't want Elias to finish his sentence. That's fine. He will ask. And he supposed he'll send up answering, too, because although he's felt he's made it plenty clear, Martin isn't the sort to be convinced so simply. "Are you really Jonah Magnus?"

"You're going to waste your question on something you already know?" 

"Fine. Then, how. _How_ are you Jonah Magnus?"

That's the question, isn't it? "Take a look at the portrait on the wall above me. It's quite simple, although I suppose you'll be...displeased with my methods." He does, and Elias can see the moment he makes the connection. 

"Your eyes," Martin says in a hoarse whisper. "They're the same. Oh my God - that's ..." He clasps a hand over his mouth for a moment before laughing. "I guess my standards have gotten lower. I almost expected it would be worse. So - so the _real_ Elias Bouchard -"

(Elias very much thinks of himself as Elias, so he isn't sure himself why the mark would change when Martin found out about his past. It is - it's strange, when do many people don't have their birth name listed on their marks, why does he?)

"I am Elias. But yes. I suppose you could say that the man he started as is gone. Although, it appears he wasn't your soulmate. I am." Their both known it. Neither could really pretend even if they had wanted to. It comes as something of a suprise, but he Knows that Martin wouldn't have been bothered. "Do you love me?"

That has compulsion laced into it - but he doesn't need it. "I don't know. Maybe. I've never really been in love, at least not romantically, and I don't know what it looks like for someone to love me first, either way. Soulmates have never meant anythingto me, but...I've always had bad judgement when it came to people, though. So...So maybe."

Jon comes out of the tunnels with Jurgen Leitner, then. That is far from an ideal situation. He hadn't even known the man was still alive, but it makes a great deal of sense. "Not enough to stay?"

"No." Martin tells him. "I don't think my self destructive streak runs that far."

That burns something, like Desolation, like Slaughter down in the cavity of his chest. It is more than he has ever felt. Not physical pain, but like the fear of losing everything, burns worse the fear of the decision he makes now, in this room. "Would you like to quit?" He asks. There is often a consequence for leaving, but you aren't in quite as deep as Jon is." Not yet, at least. A formal contract of termination will do, in place of the other...more drastic methods. 

Martin looks at him like he's making a joke rather than a proposition that is eating him from the depths outward. "I'm not stupid enough to sign anything else."

Elias takes the paper from the bottom of the pile. An employment contract. Martin's, of course. He promptly tears it in half. He should have done this sooner, before he managed to get so attached. He should have torn it when he first saw the name at the top of the page. 

(To both of them, it is not as freeing as it ought to be.)

Then he pulls out a pen and dates and signs the other one himself. "As of yesterday morning, you no longer work for The Magnus Institute."

"Yesterday? Why - why yesterday?" 

"I believe it isn't your turn, Mister Blackwood. I'll have someone send everything for your desk to your flat in the next two days, along with your severance package."

"W - what?! That's it?" Martin's back to a pale grey color.

"You'll find that it's a very _good_ severance package, Mister Blackwood. If you have any problems with it I can redirect you to our human resources department." With this, he stands. Leitner has been left alone, which is really quite the mistake. He begins to roll up his sleeves. 

" _Elias_ ," Martin says . " _You can't just -_ "

"No, I think you'll find that I very much can. You've done quite enough harm to my plans, to me. I'll ask you to leave the building, now. I'm sure Jon will come and want to discuss what he's found with you later. In fact, I think the pair of you will be having quite a bit of time together to discuss things in the next few weeks. Goodbye, Mister Blackwood."


	18. don't don't don't let's start

Jon is staying at his flat with him because he's wanted for the murder of Jurgen Leitner, and somehow that's not even the weirdest thing about the weeks that follow. 

"I have other people to stay with," Jon tells him in a way that seems downright hostile, if the information he's trying to convey is the truth. "I'd just rather not bring them into this if I absolutely don't have to."

Like Martin would turn him out, either way. He's got a perfectly good guest room, once he gets the boxes out of it. And the cops haven't even come by - apparently (according to Sasha, who acted kind of weird about it when she brought his stuff over) Elias had told a partial truth and said Martin had asked to be "Let go from his position," due to the fact they were soulmates, and that had occurred two weeks prior to yesterday, and so the police haven't come around asking him about Jon's whereabouts.

Oh, and with all the stuff that was in his desk came a box of chocolates, which was definitely not there when he last went through his desk. He puts them out on the table with the lid half open, and tells Jon to have a many as he likes. He's not sure he could eat any without feeling sick, knowing where they'd come from.

They compile research, like they used to, on a big whiteboard Martin had pinned up in the hallway. Even if it's a thousand times more dangerous, and now it's personal.

Martin takes a closer look at the documents he still has, (everything but the map) and tries to piece together a clearer picture of the events surrounding the institute itself. Without access to the documents in the Archives, it's a nearly impossible task, and all he has to go on is Magnus's sparse wikipedia page and knowledge about Milbank prison, Leitner, and Robert Smirke gained mostly through osmosis. 

Jon keeps heading out, and every time comes back with something new to add to their board and a horrible injury. He says Martin can't get mad at results, but Martin is very much mad at both results and the fact he can't take him to A&E. At least his hand isn't looking too bad anymore. He wasn't going to tell Martin about it, even and he wouldn't have even noticed if Jon hasn't reached for a dry erase marker and grimaced before pulling back. 

No amount of knowledge could possibly be worth what happened to his hand. Jon disagrees, because of course he does.

Martin scrapes up his savings at the end of that month, and tries to figure out how he's going to pay for everything this month. Maybe the care home will let him pay a little less this month, and when he finds somewhere else to work he can pay to make up for it next month. He's done it before, and if that's what it takes, then he'll do it. So he calls them, except they say this month has already been paid for. And so has next month, and the next, so this definitely isn't a fluke. 

He asks how many months are paid for, exactly, and the receptionist sounds confused but they tell him that it's attached to automatically take out money from a bank account every month. It is definitely not his bank account.

That...That might be the weirdest thing, actually. It's at least in the top three. Next to Jon being able to cook like a master, and the whole "fourteen entities of fear" mess.

Martin is certain they're not free of the Beholding, entirely. Well, Jon definitely isn't, but Martin just doesn't feel like it's properly over, even without the feeling of eyes on his back.

He's kind of feeling aimless, without an actual job to keep him busy, but it isn't so bad. He's had more time to knit and read than literally ever before, between research. If he's being entirely honest, though, he's spent more than his fair share of time staring at his mark. He wishes it'd go away, honestly. It's just serving as a reminder of one more thing in his life he can't have, can't fix. 

The phone rings during the most recent of these sulking sessions - it's Jon. Who else, these days? He's been out all afternoon. "Hello?"

"M - Martin?" He sounds awful. He wonders what Jons gotten himself into now - who he's pissed off this time. "I - uhm. I'm no longer wanted for murder?"

"I - Oh? You're not? That's...good." Not much of an explanation , but good?

"Yes, well. A - and I'm - apparently I'm back at work now, but my flat -"

"Don't even worry about it. I like having you here. Say hi to Tim and Sasha for me?"

"Actually, Martin...We all need to talk. About...about Sasha."


	19. I watch the world crumble until only earth abides

He can tell it's been (another) rough day for Jon. The bags under his eyes were already there, but the speed of his shirt and knees of his pants are covered in dirt, and the collar of his shirt is covered in blood, and Martin would fuss over the bandages around his neck, but he knows that would not be appreciated in the slightest.

Jon is followed into the flat by Tim, Basira Hussain, and Melanie. None of them look especially pleased to be there. Nobody accepts his offer for tea, just somberly march in like a funeral procession and sit on his couch while Jon stays standing and paces the front of the living area. "Should I get the whiteboard?" Martin asks quietly, to which Jon nods.

He brings it in from the hall, but going through the motions doesn't stop his mind racing. What's happened to Sasha, that she can't be here now? Could Martin have stopped whatever it was, had he not gotten involved the way he did? 

Jon takes the whiteboard and sets it up on the floor. He turns his head away long enough to rub at his eyes under his glasses before turning back to the group of them and frowning. "I suppose Tim got you all up to date as far as Smirke's Fourteen?" He gets a grumbled sort of affirmative. "Sasha - we have come to the conclusion that she's been replaced by one of the Stranger's -"

"What?" Martin's mouth is running before he can think, exactly. Sasha. Hers saying Sasha has been replaced, and they just haven't - they just haven't noticed? This seems almost like when Jon wasn't strutting any of them, to the point he'd been stalking them. This is crazy, right? He looks at Tim, but Tim is slumped on the couch, looking tired and resigned. 

"Tim," Jon prompts softly, seemingly ignoring the question of sorts. It's the kindest words he's heard Jon say to Tim for months. "I will give them back, I promise. Don't you think Martin deserves to see them, too?"

Tim closes his eyes for a second and exhaled deeply, before leaning toward to dig something out of his pocket. It's pictures. Poloroids, held out towards Martin, who carefully holds them up to look at. 

He took these. he remembers taking these. Or - at least sort of. It's him and Tim and...someone else. "You - you're telling me that's Sasha?" Jon nods, and Tim refuses to meet his eyes.

It's not. He knows what Sasha looks like. He's known her for years, she started not that long after he did, it's just - they've read about what the Stranger does. What it can do. "We have to be sure," he says. We can't just - what if you're wrong?" 

"I'm is researching the statements on the stranger replacing people," Basira tells him. "And were not taking any action until we're a hundred percent sure. Just -"

"Just?"

"What, you think Elias didn't know this whole time?" Melanie King says, in the sort of tone where it's clear that's exactly what he thinks.

Honestly? Martin hadn't even really thought about it. Or rather, he'd been pushing anything to do with Elias out of his mind so hard that the thought really hadn't occurred. But he had to have known, right? Like he knew about everything else? _Like_ _he_ _orchestrated_ _everything_ _else_?

He hands back the polaroids to Tim. "What do you wanna need me to do?"

Jon holds out his hands in a sort of 'stop' motion and shakes his head. "Nothing. Continue research, where you're able. We just - we thought you ought to know, is all."

So that's it, then? He gets to sit idly by after getting kicked out? Sasha is gone, and replaced and he didn't even realize it for god knows how long? And now he gets to do nothing? He is _so_ tired of doing nothing.

But they wouldn't let him. Wouldn't want him to. 

So he wobbles his bottom lip and looks at the floor and nods. "Okay," he says. But inside, Martin Blackwood is plotting. Not this time. Not this time, he won't sit by and just let things happen around him. 


	20. soon the sky was filled of light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you guys for all the amazing comments! I'm always so glad to see them - just know that I'm not responding to them for fear of spoiling things, because I'm super excited about this work!

The doors are locked, but it's not a huge problem, since Jon actually went to sleep tonight (can't blame him, after the day he'd apparently had) and Martin could take his keys to the building without issue. Everyone's gone home, except Elias, who's lights are visible from the lobby. He doesn't come to stop him, though as Martin descends the stairs to the archives, and he supposes that's by design. 

They're still working through organizing the mess Gertrude left. Or rather, they were, at some point and he's not sure when it stopped. Maybe after Prentiss? 

Anyways, what he's trying to get at is that finding anything specific is a hassle. Finally he finds a statement that references another statement that sounds useful, and at least he has a number for it, but it isn't in the box where it's technically should be. And not to mention its already somehow been half an hour, and he read the whole previous statement which really wasn't all that helpful - just about someone who saw their sibling stab their mother after telling the rest of their family that it wasn't their mother, and then they thought they'd seen something strange and stretched out, almost their mother, but not quite. 

Grisly stuff, but all it really did was confirm that nothing physical he did was going to kill it. 

After nearly another hour or searching he finds it, in between a bag of teeth that should probably go...Somewhere, and a statement from eighteen twenty that really ought to go somewhere other than a packed box.

The statement is about the table. Because of course it is.

Of course, despite seeming like exactly what he needs, it contains absolutely no information about how to get rid of it, and if this Adelard Dekker person doesn't know, then he's faced with the fact that nobody probably knows. 

For a moment Martin considers going home and letting the others figure this out themselves - they're more equipped, and have much more time, since with another twenty or so minutes gone it's almost one in the morning. And then he shakes his head. He's going to get this. He's just got to think about it for a second. 

Oh. There's an idea.

The Stranger doesn't want to be known, right? It works off of confusion and wrongness, but the institute is the exact opposite of any of that. Maybe he...oh. Maybe he could read statements to it, let it know it isn't known? The table keeps it here, but how does he keep it still while he talks?

It's a physical entity still, right? He's just got to get something he knows is in artifact storage and then get its attention with the table. Martin gathers up the easily accessible statements that mention the thing (including the recently re-filed Graeme Folger statement), and pulls a pack of matches out of Jon's desk, before matching back up the stairs to artifact storage.

(The lights are still on, upstairs. Martin knows he's got a house. It's the middle of the night - morning? - surely he's still human enough to need to sleep? No. No, it's absolutely not any of Martin's concern. That ship sailed. Like, a couple hundred years ago.)

Stepping around things to avoid even a light brush of contact with my object isn't exactly easy when it's all stacked up like a particularly messy warehouse, but the less dangerous stuff is towards the front, so the little teal colored flashlight doesn't take long to find.

He remembers the staff taking it around and showing to all the other departments. It was pretty much entirely harmless unless you didn't have a second person around to sort of disable it. Fun parlor trick, at the time, helping Martin (possibly) save his former co-workers now. It's easy enough. Whatever the flashlight points at freezes, but maintains a sort of consciousness. He puts everything down on the table and strikes up a match. 

That's all it takes before he gets a laugh. Familar, but stretched out and off-key and _wrong_. Like she - it thinks he's really going to destroy the table when he's well aware it's what is keeping her in check, to some extent. Martin resists an eye-roll and reaches for the flashlight as soon as the thing that is not Sasha comes closer. 

It has no chance to gloat, or laugh at him anymore, and Martin can't help but feel incredibly self-satisfied about that. He's usually not that lucky.

He even gets to watch as the look in its eyes goes from smug to worried, which gives him another surge of warm pleasure, and Martin briefly wonders if he's not so different from Elias after all.

"That's not how this is going to work," he says, blowing out the match and balancing the flashing on the table. "You're not going to hurt anyone else. You're going to sit here and listen, while I tell you about some people. Do you know the name Lucy Cooper? I bet she remembers you, but why don't we refresh your memory? 

He's two paragraphs in, and hopelessly breathless when it's eyes start to start back and forth. Three when it starts making small ah, ah, ahs, like it hurts. Five when it starts glowing and actually screaming, broken and hurt. Martin doesn't stop. 

Even as the light gets brighter and brighter, he keeps reading on. Logically, he knows he can't see the paper. He can't see anything - but he Knows what the statement says. 

The door opens behind him as the screaming comes to a crescendo. It doesn't matter, they can't stop it. He's at an end, now. "You are Known, Stranger," he says with a certain finality and calmness that cannot possibly be coming from him. 

There is a hand on his shoulder gripping too tight, and a second scream harmonizing with the first. 

After the light and the sound fade, there is only darkness.


	21. I shine only with the light you give me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter for accidentally posted TWICE when it was in progress! Sorry if you got emails about that! I really ought to write somewhere other than directly into ao3 but *shrug*

'Overworked' is too kind of a word for how Martin feels right now. It's like that weird, exhausted feeling that reading statements gives him times six (that bit makes sense, at least), plus like he'd apparently decided to run a mile. Everything was stuff, and sore, and if he could help it, he was not going to be moving anything anytime soon. 

It's feeling like this that he gains consciousness again.

Even opening his eyes hurts - and it's bright again, but not nearly as bright as before. Blinking a few times helps. Soon enough he can tell that he's laying in his own bed. There's a blurry figure, at his elbow, leaning back in a chair.

He hopes none of them think they owe him anything, owe him sitting at his bedside while he aches. What he did was beyond stupid, and he knows that, but worked. 

A few more heavy blinks pulls the figure into view and Martin gasps, which doesn't exactly help the pain. Elias opens his eyes, and leans forward in his chair. "You're up," is all he says and if Martin could even think about moving without hurting right now this might go differently in any number of ways.

"I'm up. I hurt everywhere."

"You overextended yourself beyond what most people could survive doing. It is quite frankly a wonder you're still alive. But...I'll have Jon bring you some aspirin and water."

He stands slowly, and walks carefully to the door, a pace rivaled what Martin might manage to do right now. There's something wrong. Really, really wrong. "Elias, wait." 

He stops and turns, and it's then that Martin notices that Elias isn't looking at him. He's looking through him. 

"You're - Uh..."

"I'm what exactly, Martin?" 

He's spent enough time around Elias to know something's wrong, even beyond his eyes and the slow way he shuffles towards the door. "What happened to you?"

Elias huffs out a breath, it might be a sigh, or a laugh at his expense. "I don't know."

"You don't - you don't know? I thought, you know -"

"No. I do not know." Elias doesn't snap at him. He never snaps at anyone, but he's got that icy-cold finality in his tone that makes it clear Martin's not going to an any more questions, or say anything more about it. The door opens and Elias shuts it behind him. 

Jon comes in a moment later, holding a glass of water and pills. He gives a tired sort of sigh. "You're going to have to sit up to take these."

Right. Martin makes an attempt at that without thinking about it too hard, and a punched sort of sound comes out, and he's flat on his back again. "C - Can I have just a - just a second? You can put them down on the bedside table and I'll just get it."

"Absolutely not," Jon tells him, sitting on the chair Elias had left empty and rolling his eyes. "And don't hurry yourself, either. How on earth did you get Elias to leave?"

"S - Sorry?"

"He hasn't left your side the entire time, and then the moment you woke up he's out in the living room, sulking like I haven't seen since the budget cuts he had to make in two-thousand fourteen."

It's wrong to laugh at that, probably. Plus, laughing hurts, so he doesn't. "That bad? How long have I been out, exactly?"

"Two days, give or take a few hours. I - Sorry. I should have let you done something, when we were talking before. Sasha was your friend, too, not to mention that you were clearly more capable i -in this aspect than the rest of us."

It sounds, rehersed, but Martin appreciates the sentiment more than a little bit grateful. "If I could sit up I'd ask to hug you. But it's - it's not about that. Not entirely, anyways. I just couldn't sit by and let you guys do anything without me. I know you all try to protect me, but you don't have to."

He stops then, and Jon lets him catch his breath, leaning against the headboard before handing him the pills, and then the water, and then speaking himself. "Good god, Martin. If this was about proving yourself, you didn't need to destroy that thing, blind Elias, and injure yourself in the process. You could have said something or inserted yourself into plans like the rest of us. In fact, I think I very much preferred that." 

"Wait. Blind. Do you think - do you think that maybe has some significance, like...He's blind, and he's Beholding, so..." 

And he blinded his soulmate, somehow. That's a wonderful thought. Less than kind things echo around his head in his mother's voice, regarding that part of all of this.

"I think his connection has been weakened, if not severed entirely. Which I suppose is something of a blessing. Do you think it makes things easier for you, regarding him?"

"Maybe. I - I mean, he's still done horrible things, obviously, but maybe this is a chance? To do better? And maybe, well, if he didn't blame me for it. It's awful to say, but I think it even has a slight chance of working out because I blinded him."

Jon nods slowly. "Should I send him back in? Or it can wait, you certain look as if you need more rest."

Well. He does, but also his pulse is racing with anxiety, and something bordering excitement. He wants to know what happened from Elias, how it effected him, and why he came in while Martin was tearing apart that Thing. He wants to know what happens now, and if Elias hates him for inadvertently ruining his evil plans.

He wants to know if Elias still feels anything for him, after what happened, because if they do have a chance, without Fears or Entities or world domination, or whatever to be in their way, Martin wants it. Maybe Elias wants it too, if he sat by Martin's bedside for two days while adjusting to his own blindness.

"Just - Just ask. If he doesn't want to see me, or talk to me, that's fine. I just - Tell him I wouldn't mind -" No. He'll be the direct one, where Elias is not. "Tell him I want him back in here."

"Alright," Jon nods again, looking for all the world like a man taking up a sword and shield to defend his honor. "I'll just be in the other room, if you need me."


	22. you who have given the world to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've received a TON of support for this story in the last week or two, and I just wanted to let you guys know I love you! Every single one of you who leaves comments or kudos makes my day, and I am always happy to know you're enjoying!

"Do you need help?"

Elias can't help but laugh at that, which likely sounds some degree of deranged. Her can't being himself to care. "Oh, please. You couldn't help me if you tried." Is he being sensible, or bitter? Even he isn't sure. The door is easy enough to close behind him but then he has to find his way to the chair, which is not nearly as simple.

This is more than navigating the room, of course. This is being blond, powerless, in very way that matters. He is helpless, and it is...frighting. The kind of frightening he used to feed on, to stir in people.

"I didn't call you in here so you could snark at me," Martin tells him in a tone that still manages to be upbeat around the exhaustion. The exhaustion will last. He hopes the attitude will, too, but it isn't likely. With great power, and great sight comes a...well, hell if he knows. It's all-consuming, though.

Suddenly Martin's hand is on his, tugging lightly. Elias gets the idea. One knee finds the top of the mattress, and then the other, as he haphazardly makes his way closer to Martin. 

(He's probably getting his pants wrinkly. If he is, Martin kindly doesn't mention it.)

Martin lets go, and he hears a muffled clunk, probably his head falling against the headboard. Elias wants to tell him that it's normal, that the first few days are the hardest, and then he'll start to see, but even as blind as he is, he knows the sentiment would not be appreciated. 

He reaches out and his knuckles knock against the headboard, and then the pillow. Elias settles next to him in the bed, one leg hanging off the side and the other presses up against Martin's. 

Being this close to him gives off a sort of them of rightness, deep inside him, even as everything has crumbled around him. He'd let Martin go. And for what? For everything to fall apart the way it had?

(Elias could have lost him! He could have lost him, and still gone blind, and then where would he be? What shell, what husk of himself would he be, then?)

"What are you going to do now?" Martin asks after a beat of silence once they're settled. 

"I don't know what is left to do. My options have been taken away from me." Not that Martin can't know what he's hoping for. He's smart, and even though his time is bitter, he's still here. He still came in. Martin's not under any false impressions. If Elias wanted to leave, _really_ wanted to leave, then he would.

"Then find new options. I know - I get it. You've been working towards - towards your ritual or whatever forever. There's a bigger world out there than fear entities and tormenting your employees, and - and - I don't know. Life doesn't have to be like that, is all I mean. There's so much more out there."

"I've been alive for two-hundred years. I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not sure I know how to survive in a world where I'm powerless, aimless.

Be helpless? Give up the institute? Stay like this forever? Even if the Beholding allowed him to change bodies again, he'd still have damaged eyes. 

"I - I'm sorry. Well. Sort of." he doesn't feel angry about that, for some reason. Just passive. Docile in a way he's always had to fake. Martin goes on when he doesn't verbally respond to that. "I mean - this is - what if we start over? With everything." Martin holds his hand and Elias jumps slightly, not expecting the movement. Martin's hand is warm, and slow, and shaky, the way it's hurting him apparent in the way he moves. "Hi. I'm Martin, I'm twenty-eight, and I'm your soulmate, apparently."

Why is he playing along with this? "Lovely to make your acquaintance. My name is Elias Bouchard, and it's terribly impolite to ask a man's age."

"Oh, come on! You look very good for someone who's turning two-hundred and eighteen in march!" _Beat_. "How do I know that?" And then panic. So much for starting over. "Elias, how do I know that? I didn't know before."

"I suppose we should address that, shouldn't we. Although really, it's nothing new, you're just going to be more aware of it than before." (If he can't keep Martin away from all of it, perhaps this is the next best thing.) "I'm not certain exactly what caused it, my own inaction or your action, but you've become the functional heart of the Institute. Knowing is just one gift in many that has -"

Martin's breathing hard against him. "I can't. He says. How do I fix it, please?"

Now that _is_ insulting. "You can't 'fix' it, Martin. Nothing's broken. I'll help you as well as I can. As your soulmate. As someone who's role it was for the majority of my lifetime." His hand squeezes Martin's, in a way meant to be comforting. 

"Am I - am I still human?"

"Does it matter? You're still Martin, in every way that matters. Being human really means very little, in the grand scheme of things. You can do anything you want, now. Protect them -"

"Rule the world," he sniffles, just enough sarcasm to make Elias laugh.

"If you like. Anything you like."

"You?"

"Of course," he says. "If you'll still have me, after everything."

"You'll have to get Jon's blessing to court me."

"You'll be waiting a long time to be courted, then."


	23. the dawn of a new day that's breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a...Interlude? We'll call it an interlude. I'm not even sure yet tbh, this was as far as I had plotted out! The point is, there's very little dialogue in this chapter, sorry!
> 
> Also, would you guys be interested if I made a writing blog and you could send requests/get updates/whatever people do on those?

He gets to watch Martin struggle with his new situation for a next few days. It isn't pleasant. He goes through all of the stages of grief, although he manages to get stuck on denial the longest. Perhaps that isn't surprising, and less so when Martin settles into a quiet sort of acceptance about the whole thing.

Jon isn't especially helpful, either. He doesn't even try to hide his disdain for the entire affair, even with Elias in earshot. He's _blind_ , not deaf.

At least it seems like it's getting easier for Martin to parse, as time goes on. He and Elias will be laying side-by-side, not saying anything at all, and Martin will sometimes go, _huh_ , in a way that makes it clear he's Known something he finds interesting. Occasionally he'll shuffle out to the kitchen table, feeling very much his age, when Martin will slowly take his hand and tell him something interesting, something he finds funny. 

(Elias likes the whole affair, and tries very hard to let Martin know this, although he's never been the best at expressing anything, and often feels that he comes off awkwardly.)

They settle into something of a routine. Jon goes back to his flat, or wherever it is he's living, now, but he's more often at Martin's than not. The staff of the archives (plus one Daisy Tonner) meet there reguarly, too. Elias tells him what he knows about the Unknowing (really very little, and Martin can't seem to offer much more) and Jon plans a trip to America to follow Gertrude's travels, but after that they leave him out of planning entirely.

It's for the best. They let him be, but he can still feel their disapproving gazes on him. He can hear them chatter between themselves the first meeting they have, once he's left the room to brood in the bedroom. 

The feeling of prying eyes on him used to be comforting. Not anymore. 

"What the hell, Blackwood?" Daisy hisses. He wonders if he ought to mention how easy it'd be for her to snap back into Hunter mode. "What is he doing here?"

"None of - It's not any of your business!" 

Elias gets a brief moment to bask in the warm pride Martin's snap brings him before Tim chimes in with something equally uncalled for, in the same sort of dry, dull tone he's had since...oh, when did it start? He never did afford much attention to archival assistants - well, aside from one. 

Tim's exact comment is - well, he's been trying to put it out of his mind, in the interest of a well-intentioned fresh start.

(Again. Blind, not deaf.)

Slowly he goes back to doing the work that keeps the Institute actually running. It's...more than a bit difficult, at first, and Rosie is still handling the majority of it, as well as putting off meetings, but it is...good to be back. 

God. 

He is not looking forward to the inevitable sit down with Fairchild and Lukas. At least Rayner isn't here to witness this. As humiliating as that would be, the self-righteous speech that followed would be even more unbearable. 

That can all be dealt with after the Unknowing, of course. It makes sense that he'd delay until then. 

As for himself and Martin, they reach a sort of understanding that is both more and less comfortable than they got living in Elias's home together. They sit in each other's space frequently, thigh to thigh, knee to knee on the couch, entangled uncomfortably in bed in ways that makes his back and neck ache come morning. Sitting across from the table

But they have so little time for conversation, between Martin's time sifting through the institute's resources, and his time figuring out how to use a text reader. What little time they do have is simply spent together in silence, both of them too worn to do much more than that. 

It is so much more real than he has ever felt. Nothing matters on a grander scale. At least, not exactly. The universe will not care in the End about the times he spent wrapped up in a knitted blanket next to his soulmate on his couch, occasionally scoffing at an audio drama's next twist, very, very slowly learning to knit. 

Not will it care about the way Martin slowly warms up to him the way Elias warmed to him at first. Not entirely - he knows he is still very far from earning his trust. That's alright. Compared to two-hundred years, what is this atonement?

(It feels like forever, although the days pass so quickly, on their own.)

The week before the Unknowing arrives, and suddenly he cannot shake the sick feeling in his stomach. What will happen? He doesn't know. He can't Know. Martin says they'll all be fine, but he can't Know, either. Not where the Stranger is concerned. 

He says as much, between two episodes of _Wolf 359_ and the third row of his potholder of questionable quality (he much prefers crochet to knitting).

"I - You're having anxiety. That's okay. I'm scared, too."

He doesn't know why he bristles so much at that. "I do not have _anxiety_ -"

Martin doesn't say anything for a second, and his needles stop clicking, and his hand is wrapped around Elias's. "It's normal! Genetically speaking, your mother's side - Uh. My point is, it's normal. We'll be okay. We've literally prepared as best as we can."

Something possesses him to make a joke about it. "Ah. Forgive me if that doesn't inspire the most confidence, exactly. I've attended your team meetings before."

"Oh, please. Anytime you showed up for those we made a point to get as off topic as possible. Tim's idea, but Jon was good for going along with it."

"I know."

Martin laughs nervously, and squeezes his hand. "All I mean is, we've done about everything we can. So - so worrying about it isn't going to do anything but make things harder, right?" If only it were that easy. Elias tells him so, and Martin laughs nervously again. "Well, just find something that makes you feel even more anxious and worry about that, then. That's what I'm doing."

"And what might that be?"

"Nope! I - That's - I mean...For me to know and you to find out, and all that."

Sometimes, not Knowing things is a sort of inconvenient he's unprepared to deal with, so he scowls. "Well, if you're not telling, turn on the next episode, will you?"


End file.
